Cloak and Wand
by Mundungus42
Summary: Everyone has secrets, but few have more to lose than Lucius Malfoy when two paranormal specialists are hired to investigate a mysterious death at one of his research institutions. Intrigue ensues. Crossover with The X Files.
1. First Inversion

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence right now, may necessitate a stronger rating in later  
  
chapters.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, no services, goods or money is exchanging hands, and no horses were harmed or even slightly inconvenienced in the creation of this story.  
  
Author's Note: This is my very first serious fanfic. Comments are very welcome, even flames. Dedicated to the Wee Three, Anna "Well Spotted," Dana "Are you a witch or aren't you?," and Jeff "Ah, we've won."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the First  
  
The man took a drag from his cigarette and watched the two men on his video monitor thoughtfully. Though these particular employees weren't the brightest bulbs in the bunch, what they lacked in creativity they made up for in size and strength. At least they had been able to set up the video feed properly. The day's last rays of natural light had ceased filtering through the dense foliage, but the man could still make out his operatives' boulderlike forms on the brilliant green and black screen. And so he leaned back in his chair and waited.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Halfway across the globe, the two men stood in uncomfortable silence. The evening air was muggy, but neither man felt like advertising their presence to whatever might be around the next tree. Heavy rain had been predicted for the evening and into the night, but a light, swirling mist was all that evidenced that particular forecast. The smaller of the two checked his watch quickly, then returned his hand to the protection of his pocket. The taller man grunted, then checked his own watch.  
  
"Late."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"He's late."  
  
Silence.  
  
"They don't keep time like us, you know."  
  
"You met one before?"  
  
"Well, not me, but my mate Port has."  
  
Silence.  
  
"They really ten feet tall?"  
  
The larger man smiled a superior smile. "There's none out there taller than me, and that's a fact. They don't breathe fire or belch poison gas, and they don't eat nothing but plants. Oooh, you going to piss your pants?"  
  
The smaller man puffed out his barrel chest in annoyance. "There ain't no need to be sharpish. I just asked a question. Besides, how d'you know if you never seen one?"  
  
The taller man winced. "Just keep it down, will you? They may not be dangerous, but they's right tricky to deal with. You just keep your trap shut and let me do all the talking."  
  
The smaller man narrowed his eyes, but said nothing more. He began digging his toe into the soil and kicking clods of it at the trees. The minutes dragged on in relative silence; occasionally a clump of turf would thud against a tree or disturb the leaves of a bush. Suddenly, the tall man grabbed the other by the arm.  
  
"Stop that! I think I heard something," he hissed in the short man's ear. Sure enough, both men could hear hoofbeats and the sound of something powerful breaking through the brush. Whatever it was was getting steadily closer, and the men began to yell.  
  
"Oi there! Get back! Keep 'way!" The short man's voice cracked, and his partner elbowed him.  
  
"I told you to keep quiet!" He took a deep breath and yelled in what he hoped was a threatening voice. "Stay away from us. We're armed!"  
  
A rich chuckle came from the edge of the clearing, but its owner was obscured by the mist. "Since Jupiter is rising, I won't take offence."  
  
"Did you bring the samples?"  
  
The chuckle again, "My kind do not renege on deals. I won't insult you by asking if you brought what I want."  
  
The short man tapped his foot against a cardboard box. "Right here, mate." The tall man glared at him.  
  
"Very well, I shall move very slowly toward you with the samples in my left hand. I promise not to make any sudden moves. I will brook no aggression."  
  
The tall man swallowed perceptibly. "Leave the samples on the ground where the box is. Keep away."  
  
Both men took several quick steps back from the box and watched anxiously. From the bank of mist stepped a magnificent creature. His horse half was well-formed and dark chestnut, and his muscular human torso and head were equally so. His eyes were a soft brown, and his features were as sweet as a cherub's. The two men gaped at him.  
  
"I believe these are what you requested," said the creature, who held out a small ice chest. The white styrofoam object seemed horribly incongruous with the unearthly being that stood before them. "May I?" he asked, gesturing toward the box.  
  
The tall man nodded dumbly. The centaur knelt and placed the chest on the ground, then scooped the box under his arm. He smiled brilliantly, and nodded approvingly at the men.  
  
"Everything seems to be in order. Thank you for your cooperation. I believe it is customary to shake on transaction of this nature?"  
  
The men made no move toward the centaur's extended hand.  
  
"Well then, we shall forego that formality and part ways." He turned to leave, but paused as an odd clicking noise drifted into the clearing. "Aah," he said softly, gazing up at the clouded sky. "Mars must be bright tonight."  
  
With that, he leaped over a fallen log and was gone.  
  
The tall man cuffed the smaller man on the back of the head. "Didn't I tell you to keep your gob shut?"  
  
"You wasn't saying nothing, and it asked us a question!" The clicking sounds were louder, and the tall man looked uneasy.  
  
"Grab the samples, and let's get out of here."  
  
"Right-o."  
  
As the small man reached for the ice chest, a stream of viscous white fluid hit his hand. He yelled as more jets of fluid pelted him from various directions. He turned to run, but his hand was stuck fast in the rapidly hardening substance. The taller man tried to back quietly out of the clearing, but he ran into something hard, bristly, and enormous.  
  
A voice hissed in his ear, "Stay, my pet. The feed has just begun." He felt a sudden pain in his shoulder which stung horribly, but suddenly there was no pain. All was very warm and the voice in his ear was hissing "Sleep, sleep, sleep" so sweetly. So tired. He wondered vaguely who was screaming, but his eyelids were so heavy. He closed his eyes, and darkness came.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Thousands of miles away, the man with the cigarette swore softly at the monitor in front of him. He spoke roughly into the intercom. "Get Malfoy, and make it fast."  
  
"Certainly, sir!" came the too-cheery voice of his assistant.  
  
A few moments later, an irritated voice snapped, "This had better be important. I'm entertaining some very important people."  
  
The cigarette man's voice was smooth and even, "Lucius, my friend. This evening's business venture seems to have gone awry."  
  
"What the devil do I care? I held up my end of the bargain, and I will do nothing until I see the results you promised. I can only keep my people waiting for so long before they become... restless."  
  
The silk was gone from the man's voice "You are in no position to be issuing demands, Malfoy. It's your responsibility to find out what happened in the forest tonight and recover what is ours."  
  
Malfoy's voice was icy. "You mean what is yours. If you were fool enough to send defenceless Muggles into that forest at night, then I will have no part in fixing your mistakes. I arranged for my equine contact to meet your operatives at great personal risk; I even affiliated them with my organization-"  
  
"Then that was your own mistake," the Smoker interrupted. "Your organization, your responsibility. I have perfect faith in your ability to rectify the situation with minimal inconvenience to all."  
  
Malfoy swore. "Have you any idea of the legal mess you've made for me?" He composed himself. "Of course, I will require more of the usual compensation. I'll see that everything goes through all necessary channels. After tomorrow morning, they are no longer my responsibility. I trust your agent will contact me during business hours and let me know how we are to proceed. Good evening." The line went dead.  
  
"Will you be needing anyone else, sir? My lunch break is coming up."  
  
The man deftly tapped another Morley out of the package on his desk and lit it.  
  
"Thank you, Doris. Will you get me Mr. Skinner on the phone before you leave?"  
  
He inhaled deeply and rolled the familiar smoke around in his mouth before exhaling.  
  
"Right away, sir!"  
  
The cigarette man smiled wanly. Moments later, the intercom on his desk barked, "This is Skinner."  
  
"Aah, Walter, how delightful to hear your voice again. I have a favor to ask you..."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Fox Mulder bent delicately over the innards of the machine lay on his desk, paintbrush in hand. He knew that Scully would be amazed if he could get the machine, a relic from a bygone era, working again. He began picking the larger clumps of dust from the cooling fan, then using the brush to remove the dust from the tiny areas his fingers couldn't reach. After a few minutes of painstaking work, he took a deep breath and blew at the dust as hard as he could. Shutting his eyes quickly against the cloud that rose before him and breathing in quickly through his nose, he grabbed a file folder from his desk and began fanning the cloud away from him.  
  
The door opened and Dana Scully swept into the room, directly into the dust.  
  
"Mulder!" she spluttered, "What have you been doing in here? Beating carpets with old magazines?" She sneezed loudly.  
  
"Just repairing the old slide projector. You know what that means!"  
  
She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "A slide show of the exotic place you'll undoubtedly be dragging me to at some ungodly hour? Wonderful. Just what I need." She flopped down in her chair and let her head fall back limply.  
  
"The meeting went well, I take it?"  
  
She groaned and lifted her head to look at him with narrowed eyes "If I hear the word 'streamlining' one more time I'm going to scream. Why is it that I'm the one who invariably has to attend these things?"  
  
"Because we have a system, Scully. You attend the meetings on how to fill out paperwork, and I do the actual filling out. That way, we achieve the same level of efficiency as the rest of the Bureau." He snapped the projector's casing back together and began replacing the screws. "That should do it. What say I lift your spirits with good news and feats of audiovisual skill?"  
  
A smile quirked the corners of her lips "I'll pass on the feats of audiovisual skill, but I could definitely use some good news."  
  
Mulder shook his finger at her. "Now, now, Scully. First things first." He flicked the light switch on the wall and plugged in the projector. It whirred to life and lit up the adjescent wall. Mulder laughed triumphantly. "My creature lives!" He began fitting the carousel of slides into the machine, when it started making an odd grinding noise.  
  
Scully wrinkled her nose. "Do you smell something burning?" Tendrils of smoke began pouring out of the projector, but Mulder didn't seem to notice. Scully strode quickly across the room to unplug the machine, but before she could pull the plug, the machine sputtered and died. The smell of hot metal and melting plastic was heavy in the air. Mulder's voice came sheepishly out of the darkness. "I guess you won't be getting the slide show after all."  
  
Scully felt around for Mulder's desk lamp and turned it on. "So is that the good news or the audiovisual feat?"  
  
"It was supposed to be both." He shurgged resignedly. "I might as well just tell you. Skinner called me into his office while you were at the meeting and suggested that we both take some time off."  
  
"What?? He can't just remove us from duty! We're still behind on reports from the incident in Tulsa, we're slated to check out the weird elements in the Smithsonian break-in, and neither of us has been in trouble for months! Well, unless you count that thing with the vat of chocolate, but I thought you explained that when we returned."  
  
Mulder cut her off. "Hold on a moment, Scully, we're not suspended or dismissed. Skinner heard about some strange things going on in England and he wants us to check them out."  
  
Scully's brow wrinkled in confusion. "England? The Bureau doesn't have any authority over there."  
  
"We're being employed strictly as consultants. One of Skinner's connections put out some discreet feelers to investigate some goings-on at the Brisbin Institute. I figured that with your background in the sciences-"  
  
"The Brisbin Institute?" Scully interjected, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. "I don't have much research background in enzymology or cell biology, and certainly not enough to be of use to people at the Brisbin Institute."  
  
"But that's just it, Scully. They need people with experience in our field. The unexplained. Paranormal phenomena. Our names were at the top of a very short list."  
  
"I see." Scully sat on the edge of Mulder's desk and eyed the smoking slide projector for a moment. She paused before responding. "Well, I wouldn't mind getting out of this basement for a while. I hate to think of all the work we'll have to sort through when we get back, but-"  
  
Mulder cut her off with a delighted whoop. "We'll have a great time, Scully! The Brisbins won't know what hit them. And it only took me a few minutes to convince you to come, even without a slide show! A personal persuasiveness record! My previous best was 15 minutes back in 1994 when I talked you into coming with me all the way to-"  
  
Scully never found out which place she'd been too eager to visit, because at that moment the smoke from the slide projector set off the fire alarm and sprinkler system. Several minutes later when the entire Bureau was assembled out on the front lawn, Scully mused over their brief conversation. After checking in with her floor coordinator, she decided to worry about the absence forms when she returned from England. "After all," she thought, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear, "we have a system: I attend the meetings, Mulder does the paperwork."  
  
She drove home, clothing sodden, but spirits considerably lighter than they had been an hour ago.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A/N Please review! 


	2. Variation on a Theme

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG for violence right now, may necessitate a stronger rating in later chapters.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, CSM, etc. belong to Chris Carter, all Harry Potter so-on-and-so-on belong to J.K. Rowling. The prose style is borrowed from someone else. The original concept was probably lifted from something too. If I've borrowed from you or someone you know, do let me know so I can acknowledge you (or someone you know).  
  
Author's Note: This is my very first serious fanfic, so feedback is extremely welcome, even flames. I also have no beta at present. Dedicated to Anna "The Corps. is Mother‚" Dana "Wyrd Sister‚" and Jeff "I've got a Porsche!" Ten thousand salaams to Megan, my first reviewer along with a hearty thank-you!  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Second  
  
Scully hated planes. The ambient engine noise made both conversation and sleep difficult, the food was lousy, and the in-flight "entertainment," if one could even use the word to describe it, was inane and full of commercials. Trans- Atlantic flights were even worse than regular flights; longer, more disorienting, and nothing to see below besides a grey-blue expanse of ocean, or nothing at all, once the sun went down. The only viable option was reading, but even Scully had a saturation point beyond which she could read no more. She had optimistically brought several technical references to read, but had quickly abandoned them for her well- thumbed copy of "Pride and Prejudice." Mulder had fallen asleep half an hour after takeoff. He'd missed breakfast (bland melon, a tiny container of yogurt, and an egg/sausage/biscuit combination that Scully couldn't bring herself to touch) and was periodically twitching in his sleep.  
  
After the flight attendants cleared away the remains of her breakfast, Scully decided to look through Mulder's impromptu dossier on their contact at the Brisbin Institute. Lumbar region popping in protest, Scully began rifling through her bag, which had been "conveniently stowed beneath the seat in front of her, when Mulder suddenly convulsed himself awake. He stretched as far as the cramped seat would allow and yawned.  
  
"Welcome back to the land of the living." Scully was beginning to regret not using the overhead bin, even if she would have had to ask Mulder to reach it for her.  
  
"Are we crashing? Did I miss the announcement about putting our heads between our knees?"  
  
"Har har." Scully managed to yank the folder from her bag. After kicking her bag back under her seat (perhaps a little too forcefully, as the small child in the seat in front of her began crying), she began flipping through the documents inside. Mulder looked over her shoulder.  
  
"A few smart cookies, eh Scully?"  
  
"That's putting it lightly. Nobel laureates in nearly every discipline, the profits from patented organic compounds alone last year could feed the world several times over, and company gives out more grass-roots arts funding than the U.S. government, though nowadays that's not saying a great deal. I have the sneaking suspicion they're huggy types, too."  
  
Mulder made a face. "Huggy research scientists? Wouldn't their pocket protectors get locked together?"  
  
"If you had to wear a white coat all the time, you'd wear one, too!"  
  
"You'll see me in stiletto heels before you see me wear a pocket protector."  
  
Scully smiled at the mental picture, then returned to the dossier. "Mulder, you've forgotten something."  
  
"I think I know what you're talking about, and no, I didn't forget."  
  
"But you've only listed a few financial backers. Surely they receive more money than this per annum, unless 'anonymous donors' make up over 40% of their take."  
  
"Aah, this is where it get interesting."  
  
"Pray, continue."  
  
"There was a probe a few years back because the government noticed a discrepancy between the amount one company claimed to have given and the amount the Institute says it was given."  
  
"So the company tried to write off more than it actually gave. How is that interesting?"  
  
"But the company wrote off LESS than the Institute said it paid."  
  
"So our friends at the Brisbin Institute may have been padding corporate donations to cover up some shadowy donor or donors."  
  
"Plus, there was no incentive for the corporate donors to say anything about the discrepancy; they got a better tax break. It'd been going on for years. It would still be going on if the whistle-blower had remained silent. And to top it all off, the fiscal year after the probe, which turned up nothing by the way, the Institute began claiming the huge anonymous donations that you see here."  
  
"Mulder, may I ask why you chose to exclude this particular tidbit from the dossier?"  
  
"Because it's extremely unofficial."  
  
She let out an exasperated sigh. "The Gunmen?"  
  
"Yes." Scully made a move to speak, but Mulder held up an admonishing finger. "I know their theories and information aren't always reliable, but it makes perfect sense. The Brisbin Institute has more money than God, and they're receiving dirty money. Well, not dirty per se, but less than lily- white. They cover it up neatly, but when that falls apart, they bribe the necessary people to stop asking questions and cover it up in a suspicious, but legal way." Mulder raised an eyebrow at Scully. "So the remaining question is, whose money is too dirty to claim outright?"  
  
"It's probably just a perceived conflict of interest. I doubt the Brisbin Institute is training an army to take over the world."  
  
"What about doing research with supplied money and equipment to aid an extraterrestrial race?"  
  
"For crying out loud, Mulder, not everything is about aliens! Besides, if the consortium had anything to do with this, do you think they'd let us within a 100 mile radius of it?"  
  
"That, Scully, is the $64,000 question."  
  
Scully paused. "I'll admit, I find it very odd that Skinner volunteered us for high-paying consulting work."  
  
Mulder grinned. "That's my girl. What else strikes you as odd?"  
  
"The fact that you haven't suggested an alien abduction yet."  
  
"All in good time, Scully. All in good time." Mulder yawned again. "Now that I've planted the seeds of suspicion in your mind, I think I'll get some more shut-eye. There's nothing I hate more than being jetlagged when I need to think clearly." He crumpled his suit jacket under his neck and lay back.  
  
"Don't snore too loudly. I wouldn't be able to read, and reading is the only thing that's keeping me on this side of sanity."  
  
"Well, if I snore I might drown out the noisy kid in front of you."  
  
"When it rains..."  
  
"…do as the Romans do. G'nite Scully. Or is that g'day?"  
  
"Sweet dreams." Scully managed to focus on the dossier for another fifteen minutes, but then Mulder began snoring. At the end of her rope, Scully grabbed her book and stalked to the bathroom at the back of the aircraft. She opened the door, only to find an elderly gentleman leaning against the sink and reading an enormous book of considerable age. He jerked up at her interruption.  
  
"I beg your pardon, if you need to make use of the lavatory, I will take my reading back to my seat."  
  
"Great minds think alike," Scully remarked, holding up her own book.  
  
His light blue eyes twinkled merrily at her from beneath snowy brows. "I take it you were also seated near the snorer? Or perhaps the distressed babe?"  
  
"Equidistant from both, actually."  
  
"Oh dear. Well, I noticed that there are four lavatories on this craft and that a majority of passengers are currently visiting the Land of Nod. I would consider it an honor if you would join me in my bathroom, but circumstances being what they are, my feelings would not be slighted if you decided to occupy the adjacent W.C."  
  
Scully smiled. "Thank you for your generous offer, but I think I'll take the one across the aisle." She glanced at the spine of the book he was reading, though it was partially obscured by his hand. "Enjoy your 1001 herbs and fungi. I'm not familiar with Spore's writings, but I daresay the book considerably predates my assigned class reading." She turned to leave but he put out a hand to stop her. He was beaming.  
  
"Herbs and fungi, you say? My dear, why didn't you tell me you weren't a Muggle?"  
  
She regarded him warily. "Is that a phrase mycologists use to describe non- mycologists?"  
  
The man threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Wonderful! But seriously my dear, what herbs and fungi text did you use in school if not Spore? It's required reading for all of my students."  
  
"I don't recall, I didn't study plants and fungi as much as I did the human body."  
  
"Aah, so I have a learned healer in my midst."  
  
"'Learned‚' is questionable, and I'm not exactly a healer. I have a degree in medicine, but I work in law enforcement. My partner has managed to talk me into doing some consulting, though it's not really my cup of tea."  
  
"I prefer consulting to politics. It allows me to keep my hand in more things."  
  
Scully grimaced. "Politics is one line of work that never interested me in the slightest."  
  
The man smiled, the blue practically disappearing in the network of lines that surrounded his eyes. "I understand you perfectly. There aren't enough galleons in Gringotts to tempt me to the post of Minister of Magic. Meddling behind the scenes is much more interesting."  
  
Scully couldn't have heard that right. "Excuse me?"  
  
The man smiled, "I said‚ 'Meddling behind the scenes is much more interesting.'" Comprehension dawned. "Oh you Americans! Chairman of Magical Activity. President du Sorciere. El Jefe de Magico..."  
  
"I beg your pardon, but I really don't know what you're talking about." The man seemed lucid, but undoubtedly delusional.  
  
He regarded her with a shrewd look and put his hand in his pocket. "Does the word 'obliviate' mean anything to you?"  
  
"Besides the obvious Latin root, no. Why do you ask?"  
  
Before she could react, the man drew what looked like a baton from his pocket and pointed it at her forehead. "Obliviate," he murmured under his breath.  
  
Scully's eyes glazed over for a moment, then returned to normal. She shook her head. "I beg your pardon, what did you just say?"  
  
"I said, that the adjacent bathroom seems to be unoccupied." He held his book against his chest protectively.  
  
She smiled. "Thank you, Mr...?"  
  
"White. You're welcome, Ms...?"  
  
"Scully. Enjoy your book, Mr. White. I'll be across the way if someone kicks you out of your bathroom and you need a place to read."  
  
"The lady is too kind. Goodbye for the present, Ms. Scully."  
  
She smiled and closed the door. His smile rapidly faded as he probed the cover of the book with his wand. The Muggle shielding charm was undoubtedly in place. To her, his book should have looked like Olsen's Standard Book of British Birds. But if she wasn't a witch and she wasn't a muggle... He shook his head sadly. The United States's so-called Board of Sorcerers seemed tragically incompetent to have allowed anyone with magical talent to be completely unaware. It never could have happened in Great Britain. Still, it was not his place to interfere. He made a mental note to inform the Ministry of her presence, lest some accidental magic throw the ministry into panic over an undeclared witch.  
  
Alone in her bathroom, Dana tried to read, but she couldn't concentrate. Something was tickling the back of her mind, something she'd forgotten. It was even more distracting than Mulder's snoring. Exasperated, she returned to her seat. Fortunately, Mulder had gone back to silently twitching, and the child in front of her was no longer shrieking. Scully reclined her seat, lay her head back and fell into a fitful sleep.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
An indeterminable amount of time later, Scully was rudely awakened by the drink cart crashing into her elbow. She yelped in pain and surprise. Mulder, who had been conversing with the person seated behind him though the crack between his seat and the window, winced sympathetically.  
  
"Ooh, I hate it when that happens!" He reached for her injured elbow, but she yanked it out of his reach.  
  
"Don't!" Her voice was strained. "I'll be fine." She experimentally flexed her arm and sighed. "I'll have a pretty bruise, but no permanent damage done, I think."  
  
Mulder knew better than to coddle her when she was like this, but couldn't resist offering, "I'll go get some ice from the flight attendant."  
  
To his surprise, Scully capitulated gratefully. "Thanks. I wouldn't trust myself not to do irreparable harm to whomever was behind that horrible cart. While you're there, can you get me some water?"  
  
"Sure. You just slept through the last drink go-round before we land."  
  
Scully rubbed some of the grit out of her eyes. "What time is it?"  
  
Mulder somehow managed to step over her into the aisle. "I have no idea. My watch went on the fritz sometime during the flight. I do know that the pilot gave us the one-hour warning already, so we've probably got forty minutes to go. We don't have to be at the Institute until tomorrow afternoon."  
  
"Thank heaven for small mercies," she murmured, as he took off after the drink cart.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
When they finally exited the plane at Heathrow, Scully had never been less happy to see the sun… well perhaps the morning after her college roommate's bachelorette party, but not for a goodly while. The merry sunshine poured through the windows and made Scully feel even more dehydrated and tired than she did on the plane. She would have happily traded her soul for a pair of shorts and some comfortable shoes. While she waited for Mulder to finish in the restroom, she noticed Mr. White being greeted by a severe- looking gentleman who was ostentatiously dressed in black. "Ah," she thought absently. "I'm not quite the least appropriately dressed person here. If he's Mr. White, perhaps his friend is Mr. Black."  
  
Though she couldn't be sure through her bleary eyes, she could have sworn that Mr. White was surreptitiously pointing her out to Mr. Black. She felt a hand on her arm and turned to find Mulder smiling at her.  
  
"The guy with the beard was sitting behind me. A most entertaining conversationalist. He told me an excellent joke about a doctor, a cop and a lawyer who are all on a deserted island…" he stopped when he saw the look Scully was giving him.  
  
"Mulder, I just want to get to take a shower and go to bed. Can we get out of this blasted airport, please?"  
  
"Why Scully, I haven't had such a straightforward offer since I was at Oxford! Perhaps it's something in the air…" He breathed in lasciviously through his nose.  
  
Laughing in spite of herself, she batted his leg with her handbag. "Watch yourself, you could end up carrying all the luggage." She held up her bruised elbow pathetically. "Especially with me being the first casualty of this endeavor."  
  
Mulder grimaced unconvincingly. "To the baggage claim, then?"  
  
"Indeed." Scully turned to wave goodbye to Mr. White, but he and his friend we gone.  
  
It didn't occur to her until she was on the verge of sleep between starched hotel sheets that she didn't see Mr. White or Mr. Black at the baggage claim either. But Scully was much too tired to care at that point.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A/N Enjoy these short endnotes while they last. Use the time to write a review! 


	3. Leitmotif

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language right now, may necessitate a stronger rating in later chapters.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Disclaimer: If you think it came from something, it probably did. All I claim to own is 8 bone hairpins, and that's all I need in life for Lord's sake.  
  
Author's Note: This is my very first serious fanfic, so feedback is extremely welcome, even flames. Huge thanks and trucks filled with chocolate to Son Pan-chan and Crystal O. Grapher, my two recent reviewers. Said trucks and the previously offered ten thousand salaams to Megan, my first reviewer. You are the few, the glad, the proud. I salute you!  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Third  
  
When Scully woke, the sun was not yet up, but the sky outside her window had taken on the pale yellow that usually proceeded a beautiful day. Already she could hear the hum of traffic on the street below. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Had she really slept for almost sixteen hours? She rolled out of bed and as her feet sank into the rose-colored carpet, she noticed her surroundings for the first time. Having endured countless dingy motel rooms in her adventures with Mulder, she was unaccustomed to such luxury. Well, relative luxury. The room was cozy and completely covered with roses: sateen rose wall treatments, rose-shaped ornaments on the gilt mirrors, a rose-patterned coverlet, even a small bouquet of real roses on the dark wood table by the window. Across the street from the hotel was Hyde Park, whose verdant majesty stood in stark contrast to the bustling street below.  
  
She opened the window, allowing the night-cooled air to rush into the room. The last of the lingering airplane staleness dissipated quickly, and the smell of damp earth wafted up, not yet obscured by vehicle exhaust. As she stood at the window, a flying shape whizzed past her window: a large owl, probably returning from a night of hunting fat park rabbits. But instead of prey, the owl's talons clutched a box that was neatly wrapped in brown paper and reinforced with twine. Scully's head jerked to follow the owl's flight path, but within seconds the bird and its parcel were impossible to make out against the trees in the dim morning light.  
  
Scully drew back from the window, puzzled. It was probably just a trick of the light. Or her imagination. Or maybe the owl mistook the box for prey. She shook her head at her own thoughts. An owl's vision is far superior to a human's. How could it mistake a stationary box for something edible? Her excuses sounded as unlikely as owls carrying packages. But really, homing owls? More likely just her imagination.  
  
She slipped into the bathroom for a shower. Unsurprisingly, there was rose scented shampoo, lotion, and soap in a small basket on the counter. The water was hot and plentiful, the towels soft and absorbent. When she emerged from the steamy bathroom, she noticed that she'd left the window open. She quickly closed it, physically shutting out the memory of the strange owl. After dressing, she began to rub her hair vigorously with a towel. Just then, a knock came from the door that she assumed connected her room to Mulder's. She crossed to the door, undid the chain lock, and opened the door.  
  
"Good day, sunshine," chirruped Mulder. "Feeling better?"  
  
"Much refreshed, thanks. You?"  
  
"Fresh as a daisy." He peered into her flowery room. "May I ask when you rose this morning?"  
  
Scully groaned at the pun. "Too early for that."  
  
"Shall I leaf you alone?"  
  
"Unless you want me to react violetly. But that's enough of that. Are you ready to get breakfast? I'm starving."  
  
"Don't you need to put some makeup on your tulips before we eat?"  
  
Scully pursed her lips disapprovingly. "That was poor, even for you, Mulder." She ran a brush quickly through her hair. "Shall we go see if English Breakfast Tea can hold a candle to Bureau Brewed Coffee?"  
  
"Yeah, and I'll try to stem the tide of floral puns and root myself in practical conversation."  
  
"Mulder!"  
  
"Are you going to take a pistil to me, Scully?"  
  
She placed her index finger on his smirking lips and met his gaze sternly. "No more. Not one word until I get some caffeine on board."  
  
He obediently covered his mouth with his hand when she withdrew her finger, and they walked to the elevator in silence. While they waited for the elevator, Mulder spoke.  
  
"Am I allowed to talk yet?"  
  
"Feeling impatiens, Mulder? Perhaps now is the thyme to go with the phloem."  
  
Mulder allowed her words to sink in. "That was horrible, Scully."  
  
She smiled. "Then we're even, and I'm calling a truce. Just to show that there are no hard feelings, I'll even charge breakfast to the expense account."  
  
Mulder batted his eyes as they stepped into the elevator. "My hero."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
An hour and an obscene amount of pork products later, Mulder seemed content return to his room and sleep off breakfast. Scully would have none of it.  
  
"Come on, Mulder, we've got 5 hours to kill before we need to be at the Brisbin Institute. We're in the middle of the West End and we should be taking advantage of it. World-famous museums, dozens of theatres, restaurants…"  
  
"But we're staying in a luxury hotel! Shouldn't we be taking advantage of it? Over thirty premium channels, complementary floral-scented toiletries, room service…"  
  
Scully gave him a look.  
  
"All right, all right. Since you generously took care of breakfast, I'll pick up the price of admission for the British Museum. How does that sound?"  
  
"Gee, I hope that two adult free admissions doesn't put us over our entertainment budget."  
  
"So it's a date?"  
  
"As long as I don't have to elbow you to keep awake."  
  
"An Egyptophile sleeping in the British Museum? Perish the thought!"  
  
They hopped on a bus and went upstairs, which was much fuller than the lower level. The cool morning had warmed into a beautiful day, and all of London seemed to be out taking advantage of it. There were dozens of people out jogging in the parks, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. A man in a bowler hat chivalrously held the door to a shop open for a girl with heavily tattooed arms. She had smiled and thanked him. Several blocks down, a lady waiting at a red light had enthusiastically serenaded passers by with "Good Day Sunshine." The other passengers seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as she. Some were chatting animatedly with their seatmates; others were basking, trying to absorb as much warmth as possible. Scully slipped her feet out of her heels and contentedly wiggled her stocking toes in the sun. The combination of heavy breakfast and warm sun had put Mulder to sleep, and he was snuffling softly. Her gaze drifted away from him to the young man seated across the aisle from her. He seemed to be studiously ignoring everything around him, though she caught him glancing at her. His hair was as red as hers, and like her, he was pale instead of freckled, as if he too had spent too long cooped up in a government basement. She smiled at him, but he looked away, and began rifling through his briefcase, which was filled with neatly labeled manila folders. Selecting a thin stack of papers, he pushed his glasses higher on his nose and began to read.  
  
Scully shook her head. The young man wasn't dressed for work, in fact his clothes were more suitable for hanging around in a pub. After a moment, the young man removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. He looked like he was developing a headache.  
  
Scully pulled a small packet out of her pocket and held it out to him. "Acetaminophen? It cures all ills."  
  
The young man looked slightly startled but quickly composed himself. "No thank you, I'm fine." He abruptly returned to his reading, albeit halfheartedly.  
  
"You know," ventured Scully, "my brother Charlie always says that whoever is not in possession of leisure can hardly be said to possess independence."  
  
The young man snorted. "Well, MY brother Charlie always says 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon,' or a reading dragon in my case. If you'd excuse me." He turned away more forcefully.  
  
"If you insist. My other brother Bill always talks about the better part of valor, and all that."  
  
He looked at her with a softer expression. "My brother Bill used to say that, too."  
  
Scully laughed delightedly. "Are your Bill and Charlie redheads, too?"  
  
The man grimaced slightly. "All of my siblings are. Seven of us altogether."  
  
"Seven? And I thought four redheaded children were a lot for one family!"  
  
"And two of our seven are identical twins."  
  
"Your mother must have the patience of a saint."  
  
The man smiled conspiratorially. "No, just the temper of a rhinoceros." He turned to face her. "So what brings you to London?"  
  
"Work, unfortunately. However, I still have a few hours of freedom left to wander around, that is if I can rouse my partner from his sausage-induced coma."  
  
"What line of work are you in?"  
  
"Oh, a paper-filled government job."  
  
He brightened at this. "What area of government?"  
  
"Law enforcement." She laughed. "And all this time I thought Brits found Americans uncouth for asking 'what do you do?' right off the bat. So, what do you do?"  
  
"The same! Well, I started out in international affairs, which I liked at first, but I tired of it soon after my mentor passed." Scully made a sympathetic noise. "From there I went to patents, then to PR, which I hated, and now I'm trying my hand at law enforcement."  
  
"My, you bounced around! Are you doing field work?"  
  
"Yes, but I'm completely new at it, and I'd hate to screw up. There's so much more at stake than when you hang around an office all day."  
  
Scully nodded. "Don't I know it. What's your area of expertise?"  
  
He paused. "I guess you could say I keep track of illegal aliens."  
  
"That must be interesting. I do something similar, though it's more to do with crimes committed by or associated with illegal aliens."  
  
"While I try to keep the crimes from happening."  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Scully noticed flashing blue and white lights. She stood to get a better look. At her movement, Mulder awoke with a groan.  
  
"Hey sleepyhead, looks like we may have to find a different plan for this morning."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Scully pointed: down the street in front of the British Museum was a huge crowd, mostly made up of people milling about. But a dozen police vehicles were parked on the sidewalk in front of the museum, and a line of officers were preventing anyone from entering.  
  
Scully turned to the redheaded man and smiled. "It's been a pleasure talking with you, but this is our stop."  
  
The young man held out his hand. "Percy."  
  
She shook it. "Dana. See you around." She and Mulder exited the bus and joined the crowd.  
  
Percy saw her partner elbow Dana knowingly. "So Scully, been chatting up the locals while I was asleep?"  
  
"It's more fun than watching you drool on yourself." The partner's reply was lost to Percy as his bus drove off.  
  
Percy got off the bus a block later, and stepped into a pay toilet. Having inserted 50p and locking the door, he withdrew a small book from his briefcase and scribbled a few notes. Then he withdrew a wand from a holster around his ankle and murmured a few words. A few moments later, a stocky, brown-haired man in a rugby shirt exited the toilet. He walked briskly up the block and began scanning for red hair. He disappeared into the crowd.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Excuse me, miss?" Mulder tapped a short woman on the shoulder. "Do you know what's going on up there?"  
  
"Something got stolen last night. I heard it was the Mona Lisa!"  
  
Mulder raised an eyebrow significantly at his partner. "First the Smithsonian. Now the British Museum."  
  
"There are thousands of attempted museum robbers every year, Mulder. Besides, the Mona Lisa is at the Louvre, not the British Museum."  
  
"But how often are the attempts successful?"  
  
"That's not the point. Just because two of the attempts are within a couple of weeks of one another doesn't prove anything conclusive."  
  
"It takes two points to make a line, Scully."  
  
"A line is not a pattern. Besides, we don't even know if it was a robbery. The fire alarms might have accidentally gone off."  
  
"Well, then let's find out." Together they wove through the crowd, asking people along the way. Some people had heard King Tut had been stolen. Others thought it was jewels, and one man swore that he'd heard a policeman talking about a stolen stuffed moose.  
  
"So much for that," said Scully, shrugging. "I guess we'll have to wait for this evening's Times to find out what happened, like everyone else." She paused. "Mulder? I wish you wouldn't do that."  
  
Mulder was peering keenly over Scully's head. "Scully, don't look now, but we've got company."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"About 15 feet away, maroon and gold rugby shirt. He's been following us through the crowd."  
  
"Well, we're not going to get anything useful from this crowd, let's go." Scully stole a peek over her shoulder. Sure enough, the man trailed behind them.  
  
Mulder whispered in her ear. "Halfway down this block is a bookstore. We'll stop to look in the window, then we'll pull a Markinson on him."  
  
Scully replied sotto voce, "Good. I'll take care of him if there's trouble."  
  
Mulder looked at her in disbelief. "Is this the same Dana Scully who's been taken hostage 7 times since joining the Bureau?"  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him, as if daring him to bring it up again. "That was before I started taking self-defense classes. Now let's go."  
  
They took off down the street at a brisk pace, and the man followed. At the bookstore, Scully exclaimed loudly at the window. "Look, the latest in V.C.Andrews' Calcite series is in paperback!"  
  
Mulder struggled to keep a straight face. "He's coming. On my signal. Go."  
  
They turned simultaneously and looked at the man, who had closed the distance between them. Scully broke into a friendly grin. "Markinson!" she called. "It's been ages, I'm so happy to see you!"  
  
"Hey Marky old friend," Mulder approached the man and gave him a huge hug. The man's eyes widened and he began to stammer. "So are you still with that Marlene girl?" The man was still gaping like a catfish. "So, you two are history, huh? Sorry man. But I met this great girl the other day, and I think she'd be perfect for you!"  
  
The man finally seemed to find his voice. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."  
  
Scully pinched his cheek playfully. "Oh, Markinson, you always were a kidder! Let's find someplace quiet and catch up!"  
  
The man panicked. He took off running. Mulder and Scully exchanged glances and began to run after him. "Markinson! Come back!"  
  
"Marky! I'm sorry I didn't return your call, there's no need to run away!"  
  
Markinson turned sharply down an alley. Mulder and Scully followed, but stopped short at the alley's entrance.  
  
There was no sign of "Markinson." He had completely vanished.  
  
Mulder let out a low whistle. "Well, he was unarmed, unscented, carried no wallet and was the least inexperienced tail I've ever seen. But I must say, he managed to disappear effectively. Your observations?"  
  
"No makeup; we saw his real face and real hair color. Also, there wasn't a brand name on him."  
  
"What?"  
  
"No brand names or logos, not even on his jeans or sneakers."  
  
"So he's a self-aware thug?"  
  
Scully smiled. "Guess so." She bent to examine the wet footprints where Markinson had run through a puddle. "Weird. They just stop."  
  
"So he really did vanish into thin air?"  
  
Scully pursed her lips, but thought of the homing owl and replied, "Stranger things have happened."  
  
  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Percy appeared in his own flat with a pop. His quickly dispelled his disguise and began hitting his head against the wall.  
  
"Stupid stupid stupid stupid!"  
  
With a cry of frustration he flung himself on the couch, and his glasses fell to the floor. He did not bother to pick them up. Stupid ministry assigning him to field work. Stupid him for seeing it as a challenge. Stupid idiots in the American Board of Sorcerers. Stupid everything. They'd blown his cover. Into fucking smithereens. He'd failed. Though it rankled him to fail at anything, he was especially irritated to have found out so much more being himself than when he'd tried to follow her. He removed his shrunken briefcase from his pocket and restored. His ire faded as the analytical part of his mind took over and began dissecting the details of his observations and interactions. There were definite lessons to be gleaned from this morning's activities. He took his quill and began to write.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A/N: The leisure-independence quote that Scully accredits to Charlie is from Herman Melville, courtesy Bartlett's Quotations. I would consider it a great personal favor if you (yes, that's you) were to review this story. Brak voice Who's it gonna hurt? Think it over! Where you going? 


	4. Recapitulation

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: lamppost42@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language right now, may necessitate a stronger rating in later chapters.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Disclaimer: Everybody's got something to hide except for me and my monkey.  
  
Author's Note: This is my very first serious fanfic, so feedback is extremely welcome, even flames. I don't know if I like this chapter or not, so let me know, come what may. 10 points per correctly identified HP cannon character in this chapter.  
  
  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Fourth  
  
A few hours later, Percy stretched himself and yawned so powerfully that he saw stars. His notebook fell from his lap. As he bent to retrieve it, he was abstractly pleased with the look of it. There is something to be said for looking at a formerly blank page and seeing it filled with one's own writing, particularly if one makes the effort to be neat. Percy was especially pleased to think of submitting his notes in the form of a new Standard Operating Manual, which, he noted with distaste, had not updated since 1906. It still listed useful spells for calling horses for "high- speed pursuits." When he mentioned this to his superiors, they didn't seem particularly concerned.  
  
"How much knowledge can Muggles possibly accrue in 90 years?" How much indeed. Percy smirked as he pictured his superior riding a horse in rush- hour traffic in hot pursuit of a perpetrator. He glanced at his magical map of London and noticed that the dot labeled "UUW684" was riding on another bus. Good. No indication of unintentional magic. He was grateful that his first assignment appeared to have a calm temperament and excellent anger management skills. Of course, it would have been easier had she been alone and not used to being followed (he wondered how often it happened to her. Daily? Weekly?). He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he was supposed to be following her instead of depending on the map, but keeping accurate documentation was equally important. As he glanced at the map, he noticed that UUW683 had gotten off the bus near a large edifice labeled "Brisbin Institute." Percy vaguely remembered the name, presumably from one the many Muggle publications he read for his job. He recalled a focus on Muggle "sciences." Not much trouble for her to get into there! He shook his head and returned to his notes.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Wow" was all Scully could say gazing around the lobby of the Brisbin Institute. She had pictured a décor that featured steel, exposed ventilation, lots of white and antiseptic lighting. Nothing like this.  
  
Sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling and through the leaves of the large trees that grew within. The trees were covered with epiphytes at their bases were planters filled with bromeliads and other spiky tropical plants. The air was moist, though not oppressively so. At the far end of the lobby was the source of the humidity: a waterfall tumbled from an unseen source near the ceiling down over rocks and into a large koi pond. A fine mist drifted from the waterfall and turned gold as it drifted across the beams of sun. The rush of falling water covered any ambient electrical or mechanical noise. The sense of peace was almost overwhelming.  
  
"So how much water do you think they waste ever year with that waterfall, Scully?"  
  
"None, it's a self-contained water system." A cheerful voice came from behind them. They turned to face a young woman whose eyes were framed by attractive rectangular-framed glasses. Her eyes were dancing with pleasure. She held out her hand. "I'm Cho Wei. You must be Mr. Mulder and Dr. Scully."  
  
Scully shook her hand. "Dr. Wei, it's a pleasure to meet you. I read your article on CD4 and T-cell development in PNAS last month. I was a little unclear on how you got the idea that HES-1 and c-Myb worked together on the first two silencer sites."  
  
Mulder's eyebrows raised at the mention of PNAS, but he kept his comments to himself as Scully's eyes were on him.  
  
Dr. Wei blushed. "Well, it just sort of occurred to me. Dr. Ernst told me it was a waste of time, but I did it anyway. The experiments were kind of fun to design, but it was a bit of a challenge because you can't exactly induce nuclear translocation, plus it's lethal, so you can't use mice. Fortunately, SAF correlates with decreased downregulation of CD4."  
  
"But since Mek1 signaling inhibits nuclear translocation…"  
  
"Exactly! I must say, you're nothing like I expected an FBI agent to be. What did you do your dissertation on?"  
  
Now it was Scully's turn to blush. "I'm not a Ph.D. I'm an M.D. I work in forsenic pathology, though I like to keep current on the state of the living as well. I have kind of a vested interest in immunochemistry."  
  
Understanding dawned in Dr. Wei's eyes, but she didn't ask the obvious question, for which Scully was grateful. Instead, she turned to Mulder.  
  
"So, what is your background, Mr. Mulder?"  
  
"Psychology."  
  
Mulder could have sworn she was suppressing a smile. "I see. Your work at the FBI must be very interesting." She briskly clapped her hands together. "Well, we'd better get you two signed in. I've still got to give you the grand tour before you meet with Liangru, that's Mr. Chang."  
  
Dr. Wei led them across the cavernous lobby to a spacious security desk, which was partially obscured by a growth of delicate orchids.  
  
Mulder and Scully clipped on their visitor badges and followed Dr. Wei behind the security area and through a wide hallway. They passed a library, a lunchroom, and some offices before curiosity got the better of Mulder.  
  
"So why isn't anyone wearing lab coats?"  
  
"They're not allowed in this area. Unless you're afraid of contamination by marketers or coffee, you don't need any kind of protective gear, at least not on this level."  
  
"So when do we get to meet a mad scientist who makes oversized brains to take over the world?"  
  
"Mulder," Scully hissed through her teeth, "please act like a professional for once, just for me?"  
  
Dr. Wei seemed to take the question in stride. "Well, Dr. Ernst is a little on the mad side, but he works with naked mutated inbred rats, not oversized brains."  
  
Mulder grinned conspiratorially at Scully. "Mutated inbred rats! This is already turning into an X-file! Oh by the way," he continued in a softer voice as they were led up a flight of stairs, "what's wrong with psychology?"  
  
Scully looked at him apologetically. "Well, a lot of people in the hard sciences tend to look down on psychology as a lesser-developed science. There are just too many uncontrollable variables in psych experiments. The only hard science in the field has to do with anatomy and drugs, which is pretty far removed from what many practicing psychologists do. Many people, like Dr. Wei, are too polite to say anything, but their feelings are approximately the same as my feelings toward chiropractors."  
  
"So I'm a pilgrim in an unholy land."  
  
"Very astute analogy. But don't let it get you down. Just pretend you're me in small town Alabama."  
  
"I should get annoyed when they tell me I have nice legs and laugh at my high heels?"  
  
"No heels yet, Mulder, but when I catch you wearing a pocket protector…"  
  
"Never!"  
  
The second floor was very much like the first, minus a stunning lobby. No lab coats or interesting machines. They passed through IT, HR, sales, intellectual property, and facilites management. As they ascended another flight of stairs, Dr. Wei smiled at Mulder.  
  
"Now here's where it starts to get interesting, Mr. Mulder. We've got some honest-to-goodness mad scientists up here. You even get to wear lab coats and sterile footwear! Standard rules apply: no sniffing in fume hoods, no drinking from laboratory glassware, yadda yadda yadda." She opened the door for them, and all three of them donned dark blue lab coats and sterile booties. "Welcome to tissue culture."  
  
It wasn't nearly as exciting as Mulder had hoped. There were lots of test tubes and weird machines, but none of them looked particularly exciting. Even the cell-growth stimulator didn't hold his attention, in spite of the eerily flesh colored-fluid it pumped in and out. Scully and Dr. Wei were chatting merrily about hybridomas, as they left, but Mulder was observing silently.  
  
They went up yet another flight of stairs and into a warmly furnished waiting room with several comfortable looking chairs. Dr. Wei approached a young man sitting behind a desk. "Dr. Scully and Mr. Mulder are here to see Mr. Chang."  
  
The young man informed them rather cattily that Mr. Chang teleconferencing with some very important people and instructed them to wait.  
  
"I'm afraid I have an experiment to get back to." Dr. Wei smiled at Scully. "I'd love to meet up with you later this afternoon. When you get done with Mr. Chang, have me paged and I'll meet you in the lobby. I'd like to show you my lab, but it's up on the 7th floor, and visitors are discouraged. But since you both will be retainers, I don't see why  
  
you can't come."  
  
"We'd love to." Scully shook Dr. Wei's hand enthusiastically. "See you in a few hours, then?"  
  
"Sounds great!" Turning to Mulder, she winked. "I hope you don't mind all this girl talk we've been doing. We'll behave later when I have more time to tell you more about what I do. Well, give my love to Liangru."  
  
"You two are friends, then?"  
  
Dr. Wei grinned. "Of course. He's my father. I must be off. Duty calls."  
  
When she was out of hearing range, the young man behind the desk rolled his eyes. "Nepotism always did run in the family."  
  
Scully bristled, but restrained herself. "Dr. Wei is very well-respected in her field. I can't think of anyplace that wouldn't be honored to have her".  
  
"Sure. She's pretty and speaks English. A decided improvement over most girls in the field."  
  
Mulder winced inwardly. The kid, who barely looked old enough to be out of school, was really asking for it.  
  
But Scully just smiled prettily. "I shudder to think of the criteria on which secretaries must be hired if Dr. Wei was hired on account of her looks, though I shouldn't be surprised. Historically, male secretaries are somewhere between interior decorator and choir boy." She knew this was unfair and mentally apologized to every administrative assistant, interior decorator, and choir boy she'd ever known, but the boy was really starting to get on her nerves.  
  
The young man's ears tinged pink, and he glared at Scully a moment before returning to his work.  
  
"That wasn't very nice, Scully," Mulder whispered with barely-contained laughter.  
  
"All's fair in love and obnoxious teenagers. So what did you think of the lab?"  
  
"Utterly utilitarian."  
  
"Agreed. What about all the other doors we passed but didn't go in?"  
  
"From what I could see in the little door windows, they looked pretty much the same."  
  
Scully's brow furrowed. "What about the ones without windows?"  
  
"Ones without windows? Other than the bathrooms, there weren't any."  
  
"For someone with a photographic memory, you seem to have overlooked a few things."  
  
"For someone who claims to be scientific, you seem to have an overactive imagination."  
  
"I'll show you after the meeting." She snapped, but then shook herself mentally. How could he not have noticed the extra doors? She'd been carrying on a conversation and noted them. Something didn't add up. "I need to use the restroom." She stood up and narrowed her eyes at the young man, who was on the phone but returned her glare. "I'm not about to ask him for directions."  
  
"Use the one downstairs. It's the third non-imaginary door on the right."  
  
"Ha ha." Scully descended the stairs and made a beeline for the bathroom. Doors that Mulder couldn't see? It must be her imagination. Imagination. Imagination. Mulder's voice rang in her ears. "For someone who claims to be scientific, you seem to have an overactive imagination." She wasn't a fanciful person! There had to be a logical explanation to the things she'd seen, and she was going to find it. After splashing water on her face and scrubbing it dry on rough paper towels, she stepped out into the hall.  
  
All the doors, windowless and windowed were still there and looked real enough. Approaching the nearest windowed door, she peered at the room inside. Some kind of quality control lab, probably. She identified some of the instruments inside, and could make out the windowed door (and her own curious face) reflected in the adjacent window. But only one door, she noted to herself. From the hallway, it appeared that one of the windowless doors also led into the lab. She approached the windowless door (a closet, perhaps?) and set her hand on it. The surface of the door tingled with power beneath her palm. She quickly withdrew her hand and squinted at the door. She fancied she could see a faint blue glow around the door. Yielding to temptation and curiosity, though she knew it was probably a bad idea, she grasped the door handle and pulled the door open. She gasped in astonishment.  
  
Inside the door was a laboratory that more closely resembled a middle-ages alchemy lab than anything else. Torches and candles provided the dim lighting, and there were odd glowing configurations of obsolete glassware in recessed spaces in the walls. And the walls! They seemed to be made entirely of rough stone, and instead of linoleum there were large flagstones set impossibly neatly together. Bottles and containers of every shape, size, and color filled high shelves that encircled the room. Ever odder were the smokeless fires in the center of the room upon which were set large cauldrons, all filled with liquids of varying consistency and color. The air was heavy with strange smells that tantalized with their unfamiliarity. A man was bent over one of the cauldrons in deep concentration. Not wanting to disturb him (or draw attention to herself), she softly closed the door behind her. As soon as she closed the door, the cellular phone in her pocket began vibrating. Damn! She took it out and saw in amazement that it wasn't announcing a call, it had gone completely haywire. She quickly turned it over and removed the battery. The flashing lights and vibrating stopped as abruptly as it had started. She breathed a sigh of relief, and hoped the man hadn't heard.  
  
"The prodigal apprentice returns. We'll address your egregious mistakes later." The man was still bent over the cauldron, his back to her. "In the meantime, would you be so kind as to bring me the vial of henbane extract?" The word "kind" dripped with scorn. Scully was very glad not to be the man's apprentice.  
  
As if sensing her hesitance, he snapped. "Don't be all day about it! It's on the bench with the rest of the ingredients!"  
  
Wanting a closer look at the lab, Scully crossed quickly to the bench and selected a small neatly-labeled purple vial. She put it in the man's outstretched hand. He shoved a wood stirring rod into her hands and deftly added 6 drop of the vial's contents to the mixture.  
  
"Don't even breathe." Scully inhaled sharply and held it. The man blew gently three times across the surface of the simmering liquid. Still focused on the cauldron, he held up an arm as if to hold her back. "Let four bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage," he murmured to himself. He took one last breath and blew steadily across the cauldron. The concoction began to hiss alarmingly, but quickly quieted and turned a bright peacock blue.  
  
The man breathed a sigh of relief. "It seems that I may have overestimated your level of incompetence. In fact, I wish to congratulate…" He cut off suddenly when he turned his dark eyes on her. His face contorted in outrage. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing in here?"  
  
Scully took a step back. "You appeared to be in need of assistance. I happened to be passing by, and…"  
  
He grabbed a beautifully fashioned wooden baton from somewhere on his person and pointed it at her like a sword. "Tell me who you are and what you are doing here, or I will hex you into last week."  
  
Scully felt an irrational fear grip her stomach. Why was she so terrified of a stick? "Be careful where you point that thing," she growled, covering her fear with bravado. "You might hurt yourself."  
  
"You leave me no choice." He flicked his wand at her and grinned wickedly. "Stupe-…"  
  
He never finished whatever it was he was saying, because Scully let fly with a lightning-fast roundhouse kick that sent his baton flying across the room. His eyes widened in shock, but it didn't last long. He leaped back out of Scully's range and cried "Accio!" The baton began flying back toward its master.  
  
"NO!" Scully yelled, her terror finally getting the best of her. To her surprise, the baton stopped its flight back toward him and hovered in midair, as if unsure of which command to obey.  
  
The man stared at her in disbelief, and she met his eyes for the first time. Her eyes widened in recognition.  
  
"Mr. Black," she whispered. Whatever grip her mind had on the baton was broken, and it zipped back into its owner's hand. Mr. Black advanced on her and pressed the tip of the wand to her carotid artery.  
  
"You have one last chance." His voice was deep and smooth, his breath was even, as if the encounter had not fazed him at all. She looked into his eyes. This man could kill her, and at the very least meant her harm. She had stumbled upon something that she was not supposed to see, and he knew it. And now she had only one option.  
  
"True."  
  
She brought her knee up into his groin. Hard.  
  
He doubled over groaning. She snatched the wand from his hand and ran out the door.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Percy glanced at his map and did a double-take. UUW683 was gone. He rubbed his eyes. She wasn't there! He jammed his glasses up his nose and looked a third time. Suddenly, she appeared. Her dot was moving quickly away from a telltale red cloud, which indicated some kind of accidental magic. Oh hell. He tapped the parchment with his wand to look more closely and noticed someone following her. He tapped again to identify her pursuer. His jaw dropped when he read the name.  
  
This was going to be messy. Very messy indeed.  
  
Percy disapparated with a pop.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A/N: The CD4 discussion comes from a lecture by Dr. Siu of Columbia University; an excellent lecturer, but one who has too few embarrassing stories about other faculty members. The comment about secretaries, interior decorators and choirboys is loosely based on a line from Paul Rudnick's play "Jeffrey." It was originally made about Catholic priests. Review please! 


	5. a Tempo

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: lamppost42@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language right now, may necessitate a stronger rating in later chapters.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Disclaimer: I own a pair of Tasmanian Devil slippers and a guitar with a missing string, but not Harry Potter or the X-Files. I'm OK with that. Really.  
  
Author's Note: Heavens to Betsy! Reviewers! Ozma (hail Ozma!), Jen, immortaljedi and vez, you guys keep me going! Thank you so much for giving me such  
  
nice reviews! I give each of you a 21 Super-Soaker salute and a gigantic Toblerone bar. Muchas Smoochas to Crystal O. my beloved part-time Beta and to El Jefe,  
  
my beloved idea-bouncee.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Fifth  
  
Scully raced up the stairs and through the door to Mr. Chang's waiting area, her heart pounding in her ears. The ill-tempered secretary narrowed his eyes at her.  
  
"Mr. Chang called you and your partner into his office right after you left. Did you get lost on your way to the loo?" Scully ignored him and strode quickly toward  
  
the door and rapped sharply.  
  
"Enter."  
  
Scully walked in and hastily closed the door behind her. As she turned to face the occupants of the room, she realized she was still gripping the baton she'd stolen  
  
from Mr. Black, or whomever he was. She plastered a smile on her face and extended one hand toward Mr. Chang while she discreetly slipped the wand into her  
  
pocket with the other.  
  
"Dr. Scully, it's a so nice to meet you. Mr. Mulder was just telling me that you will be meeting Dr. Wei for lunch after our meeting. How perfectly marvelous!"  
  
Mr. Chang had Dr. Wei's infectious smile and firm handshake.  
  
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Chang. You must be very proud of your daughter. "  
  
Mr. Chang beamed. "Please, call me Liangru. Yes, Cho is really special, although I'm a bit biased."  
  
Mulder was looking at Scully oddly, taking in her flushed face and slightly disheveled appearance. To Scully's relief, he made no comment, but turned to Mr.  
  
Chang. "I imagine she hasn't had an easy time of things, especially with the epithet 'wunderkind' following her wherever she goes."  
  
"Very true. It was much easier for her before she was entered the accelerated Ph.D. program. Nobody knew or cared how old she was when she was writing on  
  
her own. All that mattered was the quality of her work. Of course," he looked purposefully at Mulder, "anything that sets one apart from the norm results in harsh  
  
criticism of everything one does. Which brings me to the two of you. I'm sure you'd like to know exactly what I'm hiring you to do."  
  
Scully was about to respond, but Mulder beat her to it. "I assume it has something to do with an unexplained death or two."  
  
Liangru looked shrewdly at Mulder. "All in a day's work for the two of you, so I've been told." He handed box of papers to Mulder. "Have a look."  
  
The photo on top of the stack elicited a grimace from both. The corpse in the picture, or what was left of it, was unlike anything either of them had ever seen. The  
  
skeleton was in tact, but what remained of the connective tissue, organs, and skin seemed to be hanging limply off the bones. Large sections seemed to have melted  
  
away. The body was lying on a bed of shredded cord of some kind.  
  
"I can see why you didn't want the police involved in this," commented Scully. "Was it a laboratory accident of some sort? The soft tissues seem to have been in  
  
contact with something extremely corrosive."  
  
"There are remains of the cord sticking to some of the wounds. The body was covered in them. The corrosive material doesn't seem to have damaged the cords.  
  
Whoever wrapped the body knew what he was doing. There's a spider cult in the jungles of South America infamous for human sacrifices. They wrap the bodies  
  
in rope to emulate the spider's method of killing."  
  
"First of all, this isn't South America. Secondly, no known aboriginal tribe has the desire or technical capacity to manufacture a compound this nasty. The body  
  
looks like it's been soaked in phenol! Look at the complete disintegration where the compound came in contact with soft tissues."  
  
Liangru's voice broke into their discussion. "Before I lose you both the investigation, I'd like you to have a look at your contracts and see if everything is to  
  
your satisfaction."  
  
Mulder winked at Scully. "So is it your turn or mine to look over the paperwork?"  
  
Scully smiled feebly and Mulder began scanning the contracts, occasionally asking Liangru a question about their entertainment budget, which was something they  
  
had never had in their previous investigations. Scully absently flipped through the rest of the documents in the box, but her mind was sifting through what she'd  
  
seen and how on earth she could present it to her partner. How could she explain the strange lab? The glowing glassware? The doors? The door. How long would  
  
it be until Mr. Black came running through the door to Liangru's office? What would he do to her when he found her? How would she explain her curiosity and  
  
subsequent folly to Mulder? To Mr. Black, if she saw him again? Sorry I kneed you in the family jewels. Here' your stick back. I'm sure it must have great  
  
sentimental value. Just please don't turn me into a toad. She pictured the baton floating in midair when she'd interrupted his summoning. Summoning? It was like a  
  
bad fantasy novel gone wrong. It was like black magic that clouded her normally scientific mind. She shook the word "magic" forcibly from her head, and  
  
suddenly noticed Mulder looking at her, eyebrows raised in anticipation.  
  
"Sorry, what was that?"  
  
"I said, 'Do you want to pop down to look at the body after lunch,' but we can start tomorrow if you're that tired."  
  
"Yes." She was grateful for the excuse to exit the premises. "We'll just be getting back to the hotel."  
  
Liangru's brows knitted in concern. "I hope you feel better soon, Dr. Scully. If I could get your signature," he indicated a form and handed her a pen, "you'll have  
  
free run of the building starting tomorrow morning at 8. I'll see you down to the lobby?"  
  
"No, don't trouble yourself. We'll be fine." She stood to leave, but paused. "May I use your phone to postpone lunch with Cho?"  
  
"Of course, let me ring her." Liangru pressed a few buttons and handed the receiver to Scully.  
  
"Iber's lab, this is Cho."  
  
"Hi Cho, it's Dana. Do you think maybe we could do lunch tomorrow instead of today?"  
  
"What? Don't tell me Liangru's got your working through lunch already!"  
  
"No, but the long flight is really catching up with me. Besides, we'll have clearance for the whole building tomorrow."  
  
"Good, that means you can take me to the places I'm not allowed."  
  
Scully smiled. "You're on. See you tomorrow."  
  
"Let me see you off! I've got another 20 minutes worth of reaction to sit through. I'll be in the lobby in a few."  
  
"See you then."  
  
Scully turned to Liangru. "I apologize for not being myself today. However, it was a pleasure to meet you, and I look forward to working with you more  
  
tomorrow."  
  
"Not a problem, Dr. Scully. I'll be answering most of your questions tomorrow after you've both had a chance to look through the file." He handed her a business  
  
card and shook her hand. He shook Mulder's hand in turn. "Since you both work for the FBI, I'm sure I needn't lecture you on the importance of keeping this  
  
work classified."  
  
Mulder grinned roguishly. ‚Funny, most people use our working for the FBI as an excuse to lecture us on the importance of keeping things classified."  
  
Liangru laughed heartily. "I shall see you both tomorrow morning. Perhaps if I have an appetite after the morning's proceedings I'll join you and my daughter for  
  
lunch, as long as she doesn't mind having her old fogey father hanging around."  
  
They laughed, Scully halfheartedly, and took their leave. Fortunately, the surly secretary was no longer behind the desk. When the door to Liangru's office was  
  
closed, Mulder turned to Scully with concern.  
  
‚What happened in there?"  
  
Scully felt her face get red. "I can't really explain it, Mulder. So many strange things have been happening since I've been here." She pulled the wand from her  
  
pocket. "What do you make of this?"  
  
He looked at it skeptically, examining it from all angles. He twirled it in his fingers, then began waving it about dramatically. "I could be the next Leonard Berstein  
  
with this, don't you think?"  
  
Scully snatched it out of his hand. ‚Mulder, this is important!" She had to make him understand. "I'm positive that it's a weapon of some kind, though it appears to be triggered  
  
by-"  
  
"A weapon? What are you going to do, poke somebody's eye out?"  
  
Scully's face grew darker. This was exactly what she was afraid of. He wasn't taking her seriously. No matter how patiently she listened to his hair-brained ideas  
  
about South American spider cults, it always came down to his him making fun of her and her taking it. But not this time. This was her observation, and her sanity.  
  
She felt the infamous Scully temper bubble up dangerously. Scully tried to calm herself and clenched the wand tightly. "Mulder, if you'd just listen for a minute-"  
  
"No, I know! You can use it to fling underseasoned hors d'ouvers at your opponent, adding unsalt to injury!"  
  
"MULDER!" At her frustrated shriek, a red light shot out of the end of the wand, shattering a vase of flowers on the receptionist's desk.  
  
Mulder stared at the smoldering flora, then at the wand in Scully's hand. Feeling self-conscious, Scully stuffed the wand back into her pocket. The baton felt the  
  
same as it ever had, cool and perfectly smooth, but her hand was tingling. She raised her eyes to her partner's.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"What I've been trying to tell you."  
  
"You have a vendetta against birds of paradise?" His words were flip, but his eyes were serious.  
  
She ignored that, emboldened by his earnestness. "There's been something very strange going on since we got here. At first I thought I was imagining it. But it's real, Mulder. The windowless doors? They're real. I went into one. It was like something out of the Middle Ages, with bubbling cauldrons and everything. A man working there saw me and tried to zap me with this," she patted the wand in her pocket resolutely, "but I managed to get away. He's looking for me. Whatever else this thing does, he's going to want it back." She grabbed his wrist. "We need to get out of here now. I'll tell you more when we're safe. We've got to get out."  
  
Mulder looked unusually sober. "So we should avoid the elevator, then?"  
  
"You're only supposed to avoid elevators during fires, Mulder." Relief undercut her admonishment. He believed her. More importantly, he understood.  
  
When the elevator doors closed, Scully sighed in relief. Mulder came up beside her and rubbed his hand in small circles around her shoulder blades. "Almost there,  
  
Scully. Now we just need to find Dr. Livingstone to lead us across the lobby."  
  
She was finally able to laugh.  
  
When the elevator opened into the lobby, they noticed Dr. Wei waiting for them beside the security desk. "Sorry you have to go so soon. I was looking forward to  
  
palming off some number crunching on one of the interns."  
  
"Me too. Not tormenting the interns, I mean having to go."  
  
Scully and Mulder handed in their guest identification tags and were following Cho toward the doors when their attention was drawn to a couple of men shouting at  
  
one another across the lobby from the desk.  
  
"Kind of messes up the feng shui, doesn't it Scully?"  
  
Scully stiffened in recognition. One of the men was Mr. Black. The other man's face was flushed as red as his hair. The sun from the skylight  
  
glinted off his glasses… Percy?  
  
Mr. Black spotted her and immediately started advancing on her. "You there! Stop!"  
  
Percy was on his heels, hissing, "Leave this to me. This isn't your place!" He called to Scully, "Dana, please wait. There's been a bit of a misunderstanding, but everything  
  
will be fine once we-"  
  
Both men stopped short at the sight of Dr. Wei. Dr. Wei returned the unflattering stare.  
  
All three began talking at once.  
  
"What on earth?"  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"I thought you were-"  
  
"This is a scientific institution. You two have no right to be here-"  
  
"What on earth would you know about it-"  
  
"I'm here on official Ministry business and am required to report-"  
  
"Sod the Ministry! You can't just walz in here waving your reports-"  
  
"It's imperative that you leave me out of your report of this-"  
  
"Or me! Dabbling in Muggle science could lose me my Avalon grant or-"  
  
"You would stand here and claim you don't know about what is going on at this institu-"  
  
"But I have mention it in my accident report, or the inaccuracies-"  
  
"Haven't changed a bit, have you Weasley-"  
  
"Neither have you, greasy git-"  
  
"Peabrained, pompous, pencil-pushing-"  
  
"Slimy, selfish, supercilious-"  
  
"You two! Name calling isn't going to solve a thing-"  
  
"This is none of your concern. My research was disturbed when-"  
  
"YOUR research? Since when does the Brisbin Institute support research of your ilk-"  
  
"Oh, your poor research. You were the one that startled her into doing wandless-"  
  
"I startled HER?"  
  
"Wait a moment, you mean she's a-"  
  
"I should take you both in for interfering with an official Ministry-"  
  
"Shut up, Percy."  
  
"Shut up, Weasley."  
  
"IF ONE MORE PERSON TELLS ME TO SHUT UP-"  
  
"Shut up, Weasley."  
  
"THAT'S IT! Former teacher or not-"  
  
"She's gone."  
  
"What?"  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
Sure enough, the two agents were nowhere in sight.  
  
Dr. Wei looked shocked. Percy looked outraged. Severus Snape began to laugh softly.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
A/N: Sorry for the brevity of my chapters. I'm slowly fattening them up. I thank the film industry (particularly The Terrys Jones and Gilliam) for Mulder and  
  
Scully's courageous getaway. I thank Ms. Crystal O. for her cheerful Iber's salutation. 


	6. Lento

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language right now, may necessitate a stronger rating in later chapters.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Disclaimer: I've got rhythm, I've got music. I've got my life, who could ask for anything more?  
  
Tantalizing X-Files Tidbit: The Consortium/Syndicate has had the ability to selectively alter a person's memory since at least 1992 (Deep Throat).  
  
Author's Note: Oh no! Reviewers are asking questions! This means I have start on the huge author's notes… I will be nice and put them at the end. Skip there for love!  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Short- I mean Sixth!  
  
Mulder sprawled across the back seat of the cab while Scully massaged her eyelids with her fingertips. Mulder looked out the rear window of the cab, noting a decided lack of raving lunatics chasing after them. He wondered if the three had even noticed their absence or if they were still arguing. He shook his head. Oldest trick in the book. Now he knew why.  
  
"Where to, mate?"  
  
"London Elizabeth Hotel." Mulder was glad to hear Scully reply in a more or less normal voice, though to his eyes she looked rather shaken. She had unconsciously seated herself as far away from him as possible and he suspected that if her hands were unoccupied they would be shaking. This was the woman who'd survived cancer, oversized parasites, zombies, even amorous shape shifters. What was it about this -whatever "this" was- that had upset her so much? He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, and she dropped her hands to her lap. After staring at them for a moment, she sighed.  
  
"I don't understand any of this."  
  
A glib reply died on his lips. "I don't understand it either, Scully."  
  
She met his gaze with a sad smile. "I think I'm beginning to understand what it's like to be you."  
  
She was talking about her feelings. Hot dam! He bit back another humorous retort in deference to diplomacy. "In what way?"  
  
"Well, it's all confused." She took a deep breath. "I get the feeling that every person I've met on this trip is somehow connected to something big. So big it frightens me, even after everything I've seen with you. I don't know how to begin figuring out how all of them fit into it."  
  
"Well, if the scene we just witnessed is any indication, they don't know how it all fits together either."  
  
"That's the good thing about secret consipracies," her mouth quirked up into a semblance of a smile. "They're so secret that nobody knows everything." Her expression turned serious. "You do believe me about the doors, don't you? I know I can't prove anything…." Her voice trailed off dejectedly.  
  
The irony of the situation was not lost on Mulder. "I think I'd have to kick my own ass if I didn't believe you. One of the tenets of my personal belief system is that some of us see the world very differently from others, and I don't just mean figuratively."  
  
She was silent for a moment, thinking; then spoke. "When I was in kindergarten and we were learning the colors, I remember getting confused because I thought 'Is the green I see the same green that other people see?' My teacher had to call my parents in for a conference, because every time she'd ask me to find green I'd sit there wondering if she meant 'my' green or 'her' green. She even had my vision tested. I guess it was the reasonable thing to do, given the circumstances. In retrospect, it's what I would have done." She sighed. "I gave up trying to see things that weren't there because all the adults in my life made me feel like there was something wrong with me when I'd ask about them."  
  
Mulder was in full psychologist mode. "Did you see things that 'weren't there' often?"  
  
Scully's eyes narrowed, but then her head fell forward brokenly. "I just don't know any more." Her voice was tight.  
  
Mulder slipped his arm around her shoulder. "It's OK, Scully."  
  
She stiffened slightly at his touch, but leaned into him. "Thanks." He held her for a minute or so, rubbing her arm softly until her breathing slowed to normal.  
  
"They probably know where we are right now." Her voice was flat.  
  
"Probably."  
  
"They could be waiting for us at the hotel."  
  
"Most likely."  
  
Mulder noticed a ghost of a twinkle in Scully's eye. "They've probably got more to talk about than we do. From the sound of things when we left, I suspect they'll be at it for at least a few hours. Why should we sit around twiddling our thumbs at the hotel until they decide what to do with us?"  
  
"All right, you've talked me into it. Dinner and drinks it is." Mulder turned to the driver. "Change of directions: Chelsea, Ransome's Dock."  
  
"Ransome's Dock? You're not going to make me eat that smoked eel you were going on about!"  
  
"You said you wanted local color, Scully, and this place is as colorful as it gets."  
  
Scully groaned and returned to massaging her eyelids. But this time it was to cover a smile.  
  
The restaurant was indeed colorful: its bright cobalt blue walls stood out against the grey cement that coated the sides of the canal. The afternoon sun was still shining brightly, imbuing the water between the barges with a deep greenish hue. The interior was festooned with dried chili peppers and Matisse posters and altogether more attractive than growling. Mulder ordered steak and kidney pie, mashed spuds, and a glass of claret. Scully, looking slightly nauseated by Mulder's order, asked for scrambled eggs and a mimosa.  
  
When the waitress left, Scully shook her head. "You're going to have a heart attack by the time you're 40 if you keep eating stuff like that."  
  
"Like pizza and beer is much better?"  
  
She sighed. "I used to think I was a positive influence on your eating habits. Now I think you're corrupting mine."  
  
"I don't eat all fat and grease, you know. I occasionally partake of green matter."  
  
"Yeah, when the fat and grease has been sitting in your refrigerator for too long."  
  
"Please, Scully, you'll put me off my supper."  
  
She wrinkled her nose. "What, no stomach for the nephrids? Such a pity."  
  
"Better than denatured, pulverized ova."  
  
She blinked, surprised at the flood of emotions the single word elicited. That wound was still fresh.  
  
Mulder, for his part, seemed to have noticed his blunder and was valiantly trying to steer the conversation away from anything that would upset her. He was going on about Italian villagers who swore by the life-extending properties of red wine when Scully noticed an evening newspaper lying on a nearby table that had yet to be cleaned. Its headline caught her eye.  
  
VALUABLE EGYPTIAN ANTIQUITIES STOLEN FROM BRITISH MUSEUM  
  
Following her line of vision, Mulder whistled.  
  
She picked up the newspaper and returned to her seat."I guess it wasn't a moose head that was stolen, then."  
  
"You're forgetting the ancient Egyptian god Bullwinka whose realm was a mystic kingdom called Frostbite Falls. He was favored especially by the boy king Tutamkhamen and his pet boy Sherman."  
  
Scully ignored him and scanned the article."The items stolen were appraised at around three thousand pounds."  
  
"So little? What was stolen, a reproduction of Cleopatra's favorite back scratcher?"  
  
"Two small statuettes representing animals. It doesn't give any details."  
  
"They must be either made of cheap materials, in poor condition, or both. Curious, isn't it?"  
  
"That they chose to steal relatively worthless items instead of other priceless pieces in the collection?"  
  
"No, that Egyptian junk has lasted for millennia. Just think, future civilizations may be judging us by ceramic clowns or paintings of dogs playing poker."  
  
Scully looked pointedly at Mulder. "It boggles the mind."  
  
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So, why these particular statues?"  
  
"Well, they could have sentimental value, like the hippo statue that was stolen from the Smithsonian last week It was their unofficial mascot."  
  
"Ah, so you admit the two robberies may be related."  
  
"It's possible, but unprobable."  
  
"I'll take what I can get."  
  
"But I don't think the British Museum has anything like old William. Lots of gold, mummies and organ jars, but no blue hippos."  
  
"Speaking of organs…" The waitress arrived with their plates, each brimming with food. Scully had to admit, had she not known what had gone into Mulder's meal she might have been tempted to try a bite.  
  
Their meal passed in relative silence, each to his or her own thoughts.  
  
Scully's mind drifted back to the odd cast of characters who seemed bound up in whatever was going on. Mr. Black, Mr. White, Percy, Cho, Liangru, the disappearing man who had followed them, then to the owl, the robberies, the doors, and (she had almost forgotten) the odd deaths they had been hired to investigate. But when she tried to fit the elements together, her mind felt like it was hitting against a brick wall. There was something crucial she didn't understand.  
  
"O Time; thou must unravel this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t'untie." It took her a moment to realize she'd spoken aloud.  
  
"Truer words were never spoken." Mulder took a long sip of his Chateau Thames Embankment and returned to his spuds.  
  
After picking at her eggs (she really didn't feel too hungry for some reason) and finishing her mimosa, Scully flagged down the waitress and ordered a beer. Following her cue, Mulder also ordered a pint.  
  
"Of all the things I miss about England, it has to be the beer."  
  
"I'm sure many of your fond Oxford memories were involved with and subsequently blurred by it."  
  
Mulder snorted. "Picture it through the eyes of an 18-year old American male suddenly transported to a wonderful place where the women have accents and the alcohol is potent and legal for him to consume."  
  
"Which all led to your desecration of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's grave with the flexible Ms. Green?"  
  
Mulder winked roguishly. "Precisely. Of course, there are plenty of other monuments to desecrate if we have time on this trip."  
  
"Such a shame to have so many things diverting our attention from systematically draining the entertainment budget."  
  
When the drinks came, Scully was half tempted to down the thing at once and que sera sera. But she didn't. She savored the nutty ale and the knots of tension in her back and neck began to release. Mulder seemed to be enjoying his as well. His eyelids drooped slightly and the vertical lines between his brows relaxed. A companionable silence fell between the two as they watched couples and families come and go. When Scully finally reached the bottom of her glass, the shadows outside had begun to lengthen. She sat back with a contented sigh. Mulder's eyes were on her and she smiled softly at him.  
  
The waitress appeared and refilled their water glasses, then pushed the bill towards Mulder.  
  
He looked apologetically at Scully. "I think the dinner crowd is starting to come in. We should probably get back to the hotel and face the music."  
  
They both got to their feet. Mulder pulled out his wallet and fished out some bills and coins.  
  
"Dinner's on me."  
  
"Are you sure? We can charge it to our food account."  
  
"Consider it a peace offering for the next time I put my foot in my mouth. Shall we?" He offered her an arm.  
  
She smiled broadly and took it. "We're off to see the Wizard."  
  
Mulder escorted her out of the restaurant, whistling.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
A/N Ack! I'm sorry this (shortish) chapter took forever to post. It shouldn't ever be more than a week between chapters in the future. I blame the society that calls Richard Gere sexy. Anyway, expect more action and a few explanations in the next chapter, plus an expanded role for everyone's favorite Supreme Mugwump and chamber music devotee.  
  
Jeremiah- Yes, Cho Wei is Cho Chang. Regarding the ages of the HP canon characters, I've decided to set this fic in the summer of 1998, when the X- Files timeline gets really screwy (partially due to the movie). According to the timeline at the Harry Potter Lexicon (http://www.i2k.com/~svderark/lexicon/index.html), Harry&Co. will have just graduated from Hogwarts, while Cho has been out of Hogwarts for just over a year. I like having her a science prodigy in the Muggle world and simply known as the pretty Ravenclaw Seeker in canon. I'm sure if marketing "child sized" books wasn't an issue we'd know more juicy things about the HP canon characters, but things being how they are, we can imagine (and write!).  
  
Gwen and Lilith Ceridwen- I don't know if Harry will ever show up in this fic. I'm trying to avoid the Big 3 for several reasons. One: EVERYONE writes about the Big 3. I doubt I could do anything with them that someone else hasn't done earlier and better. Two: The Big 3 have just graduated from Hogwarts. I think it would be really rude to pull them into an international/extraterrestrial conspiracy before they've had a chance to pay their own utility bills. Three: Speaking in terms of literary form, I don't need Harry because Voldemort won't be in this. Too many heroes spoil the soup. An explanation of what happened to Voldemort will be included in an upcoming chapter.  
  
Cissy, Lilith Ceridwen, Melissa Renee, Jeremiah, Gwen, Lady Kay, Alliecallienip, Jen, and Ozma, you guys are the best. Thank you so much for the positive feedback. I'll try to answer any questions you guys have about timeline, etc. provided it doesn't give too much away about where the story is going. I salute you all with colorful banners and trombone fanfares. 


	7. Allegretto

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: lamppost42@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language at present, may necessitate a stronger rating in later chapters.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Disclaimer: I claim no dependents, ownership of Harry Potter, the X-Files, Horace Rumpole, the plays of Shakespeare, or any other source to which I refer with impunity. The only claim I make is with Mercury Insurance against that wicked woman who rear-ended me on the freeway and everlasting love to my beloved Beatrice… aah, Beatrice!  
  
Author's Note: Here's a meaty bit for the wolves (no offense intended toward vegetarian wolves)! I don't know if I'll be able to keep up at this pace, but I'm going to try! Job schmob! Oh yes, let me know if you'd like me to stick some of the shorter chapters together… I know I sometimes get annoyed with really short chapters (you're not alone Atheis!). Love copiously doled out in endnotes.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Seventh  
  
The bus drove off toward the setting sun, and Scully wrapped her suit jacket tightly around her. The temperature of the bus's upper deck had fallen enough that she and Mulder were the only ones left. Shoving her hands into her pockets, her fingers closed around the wand that she'd taken from Mr. Black. Withdrawing it, she ran a finger over its surface. It really was a beautiful thing; finely grained hardwood of some kind, and impeccable finish. The wood of the skillfully turned handle was burled and stained a deep green. She experimentally held it up, admiring the balance. This was surely a weapon, but it felt like so much more. It didn't hum with energy the way the door had, but she could sense the untapped power beneath the surface.  
  
Mulder noticed the wand in her hand and tensed. "Do you really think it's wise to be playing with that, Scully?"  
  
"Don't worry, I'm not feeling homicidal now. I doubt I could make it do anything."  
  
"Can I have a look?"  
  
"Be my guest." She handed it over and was struck with a sudden thought. Mr. Black had summoned it using words. It was an odd Latin derivative; she combed her brain for the Latin imperative. Venio, venite? No, that wasn't it. Adsum? No, but it started with an A. Accedo? Accipio? Yes, it was something like that. Accio. It was Accio.  
  
Curiosity overwhelmed any self-consciousness she was feeling. She pointed her index finger at a 1p coin that lay on the floor of the bus and murmured "Accio."  
  
Nothing happened. "Accio." This time she was louder, but the penny didn't move. Mulder looked at her curiously.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"An experiment. Mr. Black was able to make an object fly across the room by ordering it to. I wanted to see if I could do it too."  
  
"Magic words? Maybe if you tried it with the wand?" He was joking again.  
  
Scully snatched the wand from his hand and pointed it at the penny. She'd wipe the smile off his face. As if sensing her intent, the wand warmed her hand. She closed her eyes, envisioning the penny on the floor and willing it to come to her. She opened her eyes but maintained focus on the penny.  
  
"Accio." The word resonated in her head, then through her entire body. She felt the odd kinetic energy from the word flow down her arm and through the wand. There was no light this time, but the penny zipped through the air toward her and fell neatly into her lap.  
  
She turned to Mulder, eyes wide with amazement. "I did it."  
  
Mulder was silent for a moment, but he was practically trembling with excitement. "Do you know what this means, Scully?"  
  
"I'll never be short for change again?"  
  
"Telekinesis is real! You've seen it. You've done it. We can have you tested, we can probe the areas of your brain that can do it, we can try to further your abilities through…"  
  
"It's not telekinesis, Mulder."  
  
"You just made a penny fly through the air with your mind. How is that not telekinesis?"  
  
"It wasn't just my mind, Mulder." He looked at her oddly, and she squirmed under his gaze. "It's so hard to explain. It felt like something inside me, all of me, resonated with the word I used. I didn't move it with my mind. I moved it with my body. I'm not sure what the wand did, but it was mostly me, I think."  
  
"I don't quite understand how the wand figures into the equation."  
  
"Maybe I can explain it better after reading some books on the subject," she replied acidly. "In the meantime, I want to see if it wasn't just a fluke." She tossed the penny back to the floor. It rolled out of sight under another seat. She took a moment to imagine it flying into her left hand.  
  
"Accio!"  
  
It was faster this time, and the penny arrived right on target.  
  
She imagined it flying into her pocket.  
  
"Accio!"  
  
She put her cell phone on a seat and flew it into her pocket. She noticed resistance with the phone that she hadn't felt with the penny, and she had to concentrate harder to keep it on its path. Mulder's grin was infectious. Pretty soon she was laughing along with him.  
  
"How big an object can you move do you think?"  
  
"No idea. I am just beginning, you know."  
  
"Do you think you could move me?"  
  
Her jaw dropped. "Absolutely not! I don't know nearly enough about this yet to try it on a person. Any number of things could go wrong. What if I drag you into the seats by mistake? What if it only works on inanimate objects? I might accidentally move all your clothes instead of you."  
  
Mulder winked. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."  
  
"No, Mulder."  
  
He took her hands and pulled her into the aisle. He stood about five feet away from her and held his hands out expectantly. "No obstacles. Scully, I want to know if it can be done. Please try. Please."  
  
"I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"I don't think you will. I trust you."  
  
She didn't trust herself. "I'll try, but only this once, at least until I understand how this works a little more."  
  
"Just make sure you move my clothes with me. It's pretty chilly up here."  
  
She sighed and closed her eyes, visualizing her partner with ease; he was in the dark grey Brandini today, and one of his Oxford-stripe ties. He was slightly rumpled from all of the day's activity, and his hair was blowing in the evening breeze. She could almost feel anticipation rolling off him in waves. She opened her eyes and pointed her wand at him.  
  
"Accio."  
  
Slowly, majestically, Mulder rose a few inches in the air and began inching towards her. Never breaking visual contact, she forced all of her determination and stubbornness into pulling him to her. Her teeth were clenched and she felt as if every muscle in her body was tensed from the effort, but Mulder was steadily floating towards her. When his chin was a hairsbreadth from her face, she felt the energy fade as she lowered him onto the floor. Her body relaxed and she looked up into his eyes. He was regarding her with something like awe, but there was an intensity there that she had only seen a few times before in the glances reserved for her.  
  
"Scully." The name whispered from his lips filled sent a tingle through her. He raised a hand to her cheek, running his thumb across her cheekbone. She felt the energy within her spring up like wildfire, searching desperately for an escape.  
  
"Mulder." Her voice was shaking. She pressed the wand into Mulder's other hand. "I can't control it. Please."  
  
"Maybe you don't have to control it." He slid his arm around her, pulling her to him. She could feel the wand against the small of her back, and the fire within her rose up even higher, struggling against her.  
  
"Please, Mulder. The flowers in Liangru's office. It's going to happen again."  
  
He smiled into her hair. "You're not feeling homicidal, are you?"  
  
"No, but…" she flushed furiously and pulled away from him. The fire faded with the loss of contact. "I just don't want to blow anything else up, least of all my partner."  
  
The bus braked suddenly, but she managed to grab the side of the seat and kept from flying into Mulder. When she had regained her balance, she ran a hand through her hair and smoothed her jacket. Dignity regained, she turned and strode purposefully toward the spiral stair leading to the lower level. "Our stop is next, I believe. We need to be ready for whatever will be meeting us." She didn't even turn to see if he was following her.  
  
Mulder shook his head, but managed to hold his tongue. He was the last person on earth to be lecturing her on expressing her feelings, and deep down, he knew she was probably right to keep herself under control under the circumstances. "Scully, wait."  
  
She turned and regarded him warily. He held the wand out to her.  
  
"You can do more with this thing than I can. Besides, maybe you can summon their clothes to distract them."  
  
She didn't acknowledge the jocularity, but nodded and returned the wand to her pocket. They made their way down the stairs and stood among the other riders in silence. The last rays of the sun were fading as they got off the bus, and the hotel's lobby lights were shining merrily. Groups of people dressed for dinner were flagging down cabs. Others were chatting about the weather. The scene was completely incongruous with the apprehensiveness that clenched Scully's stomach. She caught Mulder's eye. "Cover me?"  
  
"For the rest of my life, Scully."  
  
She rolled her eyes and led the way to the front desk. "Are there any messages for room 1013? I'm Dr. Scully."  
  
Harold, or so his name tag proclaimed, efficiently thumbed through a tidy rolodex. "Aah, here were are. Two messages. One from a Mister Skinner and another from," he frowned slightly at the handwriting, "G. White." He handed her two thick cards; one of which was the hotel stationery. The other was of a heavier, yellowish material that felt either homemade or very expensive. Having thanked Harold, Scully handed Skinner's message to Mulder and read Mr. White's.  
  
My Dear Dr. Scully,  
  
I would like to arrange a meeting with you as soon as is convenient for you. Tap this parchment three times with the wand that is currently in your possession, and I will come presently. I look forward to explaining a number of things to you. Also, please inform your partner than I heard a great one the other day about a goblin, an ogre, and a gnome.  
  
Cordially yours,  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
A.K.A. Mr. White  
  
She tore her eyes from the note and turned to Mulder. "So, what did Skinner want?"  
  
"He just wants us to check in after work tomorrow. What of the mysterious Mr. White?"  
  
"Apparently, it's Mr. Dumbledore. He'd like to meet with us soon." She looked around the lobby suspiciously. "Perhaps we'd better adjourn to the room before going into it further."  
  
He nodded and followed her to the elevator. A few minutes later, they were in Scully's rose-y room, regarding Dumbledore's note curiously. Mulder was fascinated. He made Scully read it aloud to him twice while he looked over her shoulder.  
  
He shook his head in amazement. "If you hadn't just levitated me on a bus, I might be inclined to doubt you."  
  
"You mean you can't read it?"  
  
"Oh, I can read it, but to me it looks like a cordial message inviting you and your new husband to stay with your great-aunt Gladys in Shropshire as soon as possible."  
  
"Unbelievable." Scully ran her fingers over the thick paper, closed her eyes, and sighed. She pictured the note in her mind's eye, and was surprised to find that there was a white, shimmering aureole around it. Abruptly, she opened her eyes. "So, do you think I should contact him tonight or should I wait until tomorrow?"  
  
"It's really not that late, and I'll feel a whole lot better about this whole thing as soon as I get some answers."  
  
She nodded, considering. "I think you should hide in your room and listen from there. That way you'll know if anything happens. If things get dicey, I can move his clothes to the other side of the room. I want you to stay hidden." Her half smile faded as she took his hand in hers. "If anything happens to me, you'll know exactly what. If anyone could help me then, it'd be you."  
  
"I hate leaving you like this, Scully."  
  
"You won't be leaving me, you'll be here. But I really need to do this myself."  
  
Her tone brooked no argument, and having been on the receiving end of her wrath at least once already that day, Mulder understood that this was one of the "better part of valor" situations. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.  
  
"If you need me for anything, you know where I'll be."  
  
"See you on the other side, Mulder."  
  
He gave a small smile and disappeared through the connecting door, which shut with a final snick.  
  
Scully let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. The events of the day had drained her unexpectedly, although, she thought wryly, she should have known wielding unknown forces might have a detrimental effect on her energy level. But there was very little to be done about it at that point. After kicking off her not-entirely-sensible shoes and peeling off her hose, she rinsed her face with cold water to wake up a bit. When she had donned a pair of jeans and a soft cotton shirt, she tried a few practice kicks in the air to warm up, just in case. When she was satisfied, she took a deep breath and tapped Mr. White's – Dumbledore's – note with the wand. One. Two. No turning back. Three. She dropped into a defensive stance and waited.  
  
Seconds later, a soft pop behind her made her jump. She spun to face Mr. White – Dumbledore- who was smiling benignly at her. A vision forced its way to the front of her mind. Without thinking, she jumped backwards, aimed the wand at his left pocket and cried "Accio!"  
  
The wand that she somehow knew was there zipped into her outstretched hand. Dumbledore looked slightly shocked, then much to her surprise, laughed aloud.  
  
"My dear, I must admit that when Severus, my friend whose wand you seem to have acquired, told me that you'd managed to disarm him, I admit, I was a little disappointed in him. I think I understand now. I apologize for coming to you in a way that you might consider being armed, but in our world it is considered very foolish to travel without one's wand. In this case, however, I am more than willing to forego that particular custom as a gesture of good faith."  
  
Scully was a little taken aback at the man's audacity in offering to give up what she'd already removed from his person, but he was being polite, and she saw no reason to antagonize him. "Please, have a seat Mr. Dumbledore. There is much that I am eager to discuss with you."  
  
"Of course Dr. Scully, but before we begin, may I ask where you learned that summoning spell?"  
  
"I saw Mr. Bl- Severus do it. He used the words to summon his wand from across the room, although I don't know how to do it without the wand yet."  
  
He nodded. "I see. When the spell is first taught to students, they are usually instructed to verbally designate an object to be summoned to aid in the visualization. However, you seem to have an excellent spatial sense and a good grasp of the principles of the spell. It takes a great deal of practice before a witch or wizard can summon object without a wand."  
  
She blinked hard. "Spells?"  
  
He sighed, suddenly looking very old. "What did you think you were doing with the wand? My dear, someone, has done you a great disservice. You are a witch, and one with a great deal of potential from what I've seen. But for you have gone your entire life without being aware of your gifts is inexcusable. It could only happen in America."  
  
"Why? What's wrong with America?" Scully's national pride was slightly offended.  
  
"Well, you see, Wizards and Witches in America are rather few and far- between for a number of reasons. First of all, the United States has a very tentative magical government, one that many other governments don't acknowledge. The American Committee for Magic is made up of the regional clan heads, but it's not very effective in enforcing International Wizarding law, especially the 1692 International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. It is for this reason that native Magical species like the Northern Sasquatch are spotted by Muggles regularly and that Muggle-born Wizards and Witches sometimes go their whole lives not understanding their own skills."  
  
She shook her head. "You mean there is an entirely unregulated society of Magical barbarians in the United States?"  
  
"I wouldn't call them barbarians, per se, but yes. Fortunately, the Wizard- to-Muggle ratio is much lower than it is in other parts of the world. Because there is so much unpopulated area, American clans can battle undetected. The clans are intensely hostile towards outsiders, so you can understand why not many are tempted to move to the United States."  
  
"How are European Wizarding governments organized?"  
  
"Very much like their Muggle counterparts. There are a handful of Magical monarchies left, but a majority of them have been abandoned or reduced to figurehead status. America is unique in that the Muggles government is far more stable than the Magical. I apologize for not giving you a broader overview of History at this time, but I do have some questions of the utmost importance for you."  
  
She paused, letting it all sink in. "I don't see how I could possess any knowledge that you don't, but I'll answer your questions to the best of my ability," she paused, "provided you amply satisfy my curiosity as to your identity and intentions."  
  
"Very shrewd of you. Well, where shall I start?"  
  
"Your real name would be an excellent place."  
  
"Ah, yes. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the retired Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, ex-Grand Sorcerer, abdicated Chief Warlock and former Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Deceased."  
  
"Deceased?"  
  
"Officially, yes. I found that life was detrimental to my work. My previous positions were rather on the high-profile side. Now that I'm simply Mr. White, world traveler and writer of irritating letters to the editors of the Daily Prophet, I find it much easier to gather information and dabble in things that were previously none of my business."  
  
"What kind of work are you involved in, Mr. Dumbledore?"  
  
"That's a rather delicate question, Dr. Scully, and one I hoped you might help me with. I suspect you and your partner are in a position to be of great help to me."  
  
"What makes you think we can help you?"  
  
"You've managed to do something that it's taken Severus years to do: infiltrate the Brisbin Institute. I'm not sure for what reason beyond your investigative experience you and Mr. Mulder have been sent to us, but I very much doubt whomever suggested you for the job had any idea you were -and are- a witch." He paused a moment, regarding her with lively blue eyes. "Tell me Dr. Scully, in your time at the FBI have you ever come across anything that could be considered evidence of extraterrestrial life?"  
  
Whatever Scully was expecting to hear from Dumbledore, that was not it. Judging from the loud choked noise from behind the door, Mulder had been taken as unaware as she.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Mulder, I had hoped you were present! Please join us. Your perspective will be helpful as well."  
  
Mulder sheepishly peered in. "I beg your pardon, I could have sworn I just heard you mention extraterrestrial life."  
  
Dumbledore peered gravely at Mulder over his spectacles. "Indeed, Mr. Mulder, and it is no laughing matter. Need I remind you that this morning you and your partner were unaware of Magic and the Magical community? I ask you to stretch your credibility a bit further and-" He broke off suddenly as Mulder and Scully burst into peals of laughter. Dumbledore fixed them in a stern look that only those with experience with children are capable of giving and waited for them to compose themselves.  
  
Scully was the first to notice his silence. "Oh, Mr. Dumbledore, don't think we were laughing at you, but you see, when you mentioned aliens-" she was overcome with mirth again.  
  
"I fail to see what is so funny about this." Dumbledore sounded almost huffy.  
  
Mulder quelled another fit of giggles. "Because, aliens and the paranormal are what we investigate! It's why we were sent here in the first place. The two of us head a division called the X-Files, which specializes in unexplained phenomena. Extraterrestrials fall squarely into that category."  
  
Dumbledore's brows knitted in confusion. "But Mr. Weasley was convinced that you both investigated crimes surrounding illegal-" Comprehension dawned, and he began to chuckle. "I say, that's one I shall have to tell my brother." He sobered quickly. "I'm afraid this is a quite a bit more serious than doctored photos of hubcaps or crop circles. The details that I am about to share with you are top secret. Should you decide not to help me, I shall use a memory charm on you both and we may all go about business as usual. Are you willing to hear me out?"  
  
Mulder looked at Scully, who nodded resolutely. She pulled the chair away from the desk and offered it to Dumbledore. She seated herself on the bed and gestured for Mulder to join her. When all were settled, Dumbledore began to speak.  
  
"My story begins over four thousand years ago, when humans first came into contact with a benevolent alien race."  
  
  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Author's Notes: Cliffhanger! Thank me for not making y'all wait too long G You wonderful people! Thank you so much for the reviews! Boisterous tavern songs and festoons of kettle corn to Cissy, ImmortalJedi, Ozma, Lilith Ceridwen, Melissa Renee, Jeremiah, Xoni Newcomer, Leila C. Snape, Aethis, Juryu, j, Caitlyn, and Indigo Zionia for reviewing my (admittedly) short chapter 7.  
  
Lilith Ceridwen- Draco has already made a cameo, and he'll be back, though he's not the normal fanon Draco. Caveat Lector  
  
Caitlyn- Being a person who is rarely coherent, I am indebted to you for your kind assessment and hope this and upcoming chapters are to your satisfaction.  
  
Juryu and Leila C. Snape- I'm glad you like Percy! I couldn't squeeze him into this chapter, but there will be much more of him in the future.  
  
Xoni Newcomer- Regarding Cho's different surnames for different worlds, you got it in one! 25 points to your house! (more on this in upcoming chapters)  
  
Indigo Zionia-Regarding Harry, see my verbose response to j.  
  
j - regarding Mr. Gere, I believe the phrase is "agree to disagree." Regarding the other older male sex symbols you listed, I can't fault your taste. G I agree, Severus would turn a delightful shade of pissed off if he knew Scully's private name for him.. hee hee. Being a mere-schmere, first-time fanfic author, I'm not entirely sure if your comments regarding the big three are flame-spirited, but I'll try to explain my viewpoint. It would be negligent, if not impossible to write a fic of this nature without at least mentioning the big three, especially (personal spoiler) since Voldemort has been defeated prior to the action of the story. However, this is not nor will be a fic centered on the actions of Harry&Co. There are more and bigger fish in the sea than Voldemort, just as there are more and bigger flukes in the X-Files world than a MotW who terrorized a small town for years. Regarding Mulder and Scully's seemingly impossible escape, I took a page from "The Holy Grail." Perhaps such a slapstick device is out of place in a more serious fic, but I couldn't help myself. I'll also be explaining more about why Cho, Snape, and Percy were so shocked to see one another in later chapters. 


	8. Stringendo

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language (and a rawther juvenile joke) at present, may necessitate a stronger rating in later chapters.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Disclaimer: If I ever get my blasted time machine working again, Harry Potter will be mine! Until this happens, I make no claim of ownership.  
  
Author's Note: I have been horribly remiss in offering profuse thanks to Crystal O. Grapher, my beloved Beta. Her astute advice and occasional "how does THAT work?" have greatly augmented the cohesiveness of this story. I apologize for this largely expositional chapter. I hope it muddles everything effectively. Hugs, kisses, and acknowledgements given out in endnotes.  
  
Quote for the chapter: "Very well, where do I begin…"  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Eight  
  
"My story begins over four thousand years ago, when humans first came into contact with a benevolent alien race." Dumbledore paused, searching for signs of disbelief on their faces. Scully looked skeptical, but Mulder's eyes shone with enthusiasm. "The extraterrestrial colonists left their home planet for reasons that have been lost to us over the millennia, though I suspect one of the reasons included their abhorrence for violence and respect for all forms of life. They were intelligent, innovative, spiritual and had far greater knowledge about the workings of the universe than the Paleolithic human societies that were emerging. They also had abilities that are shared by modern wizards and witches, including a heightened control over matter. I also suspect them of having highly mutable genetic material so as to explain quick proliferation and adaptation to their environments-" he cut himself off, eyes smiling. "I get ahead of myself. Having reached a habitable planet, they pledged to assume the shapes of native life forms so as not to disrupt the planet's ecology. Some became plants, while others became animals, depending on their interests. Because they retained their knowledge and innate abilities in any form, they slowly imbued all life on earth with what we call magic."  
  
"Let me see if I have this all: magic is extraterrestrial in origin, and every Magical denizen of this planet has the ability to change matter though this innate power." The disbelief in Scully's voice belied her neutral expression.  
  
"To some degree, though not all magic manifests itself in ways we understand, especially in non-humans. Believe me, when the worldwide Magical community went into hiding, we had a dickens of a time deciding which animals were magical enough to need protection. Creatures like dragons and unicorns were obvious, but creatures like retroviruses and flobberworms defied classification. In retrospect, we probably should have hidden the dolphins, but we had no idea that Muggles would realize that the speed of their swimming is impossible given the "laws" of physics. Fortunately for us, the dolphins' attempts to share their knowledge have been grossly misinterpreted by the Muggle community."  
  
"So the creatures of myth are real? Minotaurs? Pegasi?" Mulder was grinning.  
  
"Yes. In less than 400 years of hiding, generations of oral tradition have been reduced to a handful of folk tales; an unfortunate side effect that wasn't even considered at the time." He sighed heavily, removed his glasses and polished them on a handkerchief he had produced from somewhere.  
  
Scully looked thoughtful. "So wizards have known about extraterrestrials for ages, then."  
  
"My dear Dr. Scully, you have put your finger on the crux of the problem. You see, the knowledge I have just imparted to you and Mr. Mulder was uncovered within the last hundred years by my dear friend, the late Nicholas Flamel."  
  
Mulder's gaze jerked to Dumbledore. "Alchemist Nicholas Flamel? Philosopher's Stone Nicholas Flamel?"  
  
"The same, though Nicholas prefers to be remembered by his work in the field of Magipaleontology than his dabblings in alchemy."  
  
"So he did it then. He produced the Elixir of Life." Mulder shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"Yes, but the Stone has been destroyed for the benefit of mankind. Nicholas and his wife went on to the next great adventure nearly seven years ago."  
  
Scully looked at him shrewdly. "By 'went on to the next great adventure' do you mean 'died after long and fruitful lives,' or 'covertly continue to fight the forces of evil as members of Dumbledore's Legion of the Officially-Deceased ?'"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Nicholas and Pernelle have enough Elixir to live another 200 years if they so desire. And yes, we are in cahoots, a phrase which here means 'using the secrets of the past to save the world.'"  
  
"Is there any particular reason you're keeping the origins of magic secret from your community?"  
  
"Aside from Nicholas's phobia of peer review, we have very little concrete proof. Our theories exist largely in conjecture and personal experience. It's been a very frustrating experience. We've researched and investigated lead after lead, but it's as if there is an equal and opposite force working against us, trying to remove all evidence of our extraterrestrial ancestors."  
  
Mulder and Scully exchanged glances.  
  
"You have run up against similar problems in your work?"  
  
Mulder took a deep breath. "Are you aware that in 1947 aliens crash-landed in the southwestern United States?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you know why it was covered up?"  
  
"I assume because the extraterrestrials were bent on the destruction or enslavement of the human race."  
  
"What makes you think they had hostile intentions?" Mulder's eyes gave nothing away.  
  
"Why else would their craft have been destroyed?"  
  
"Unexpected atmospheric conditions?"  
  
"Mr. Mulder, among the theories Nicholas and I have about the early colonists who helped contribute to the biodiversity of this planet is that they did their best to protect the planet against hostile invaders. The ships that arrived on July 4 ,1947 were not the first to visit. There were reports of unidentified flying objects months before; the preliminary scouts, I suspect. They had ample time to study the atmosphere, topography, and inhabitants of the planet and plan their attack. There was no reason for them to fail. Something sensed their intent and caused them to crash."  
  
Scully cut in. "Why colonize our planet?"  
  
"I don't know, Dr. Scully. Perhaps for the same reasons generations of humans destroy one another over a tiny strip of land. Perhaps for other reasons. Who can say?"  
  
Mulder looked thoughtful. "Do you and Nicholas have any idea what sort of powers are protecting the earth?"  
  
"We suspect that the surface of the earth is covered with something like a protective ward which is generated by hundreds of powerful magical generators. We believe the ward can sense intention, reminiscent of the ancient Egyptian magic that has survived. For example, the Fidelius charm, which dates back to the Ptolmeic Dynasty, is still the most effective for concealing a person's secrets inside another human being. The charm can only be broken if the secret-keeper deliberately breaks the charm." Dumbledore tapped the side of his nose with his index finger. "For those of us in the know, it is considered very unwise to torture a secret- keeper because of the protection given by the Fidelius. The charm protects the secret by any means necessary. Sometimes there are unexpected detriments to those who would interfere with the charm. Based on Nicholas's work in the 1700s, we've surmised that the wards protecting this planet function similarly. A group of extraterrestrials landing for reconnaissance purposes would be fine, but three ships full of beings that mean to obliterate a planet might have problems getting their plans off the ground, so to speak. "  
  
"Then how do you explain alien abudctions?"  
  
"Any number of possibilities. An abduction is not always done with intent to harm. Perhaps the ancient magic has a liberal definition of 'nonhostile.'"  
  
Scully jumped in again. "How is this ancient magic different than modern magic?"  
  
"To grossly generalize, it's less precise. Rather than using one type of magic, ancient spells use them all at once. It takes a great deal of will and determination to wield ancient magic; much more so than modern spells. But there's no need for me to babble on into infinity about such things, as I have these for your perusal." He pulled a handful of matchbook-sized books from his pocket, and with a wave of his wand they expanded to their normal size and came to rest on the bed next to Scully.  
  
She fingered their spines reverently. Magical Theory. Standard Book of Spells v.1-10. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Her gaze lingered on the last title, for some reason a nameless suspicion stirred.  
  
"Mr. Dumbldore, what happened on the plane?"  
  
He looked very sad for an instant, but met her gaze unflinchingly. "Not understanding your circumstances, I engaged you in magical conversation. When I realized my error, I erased a bit of your memory." At Scully's aghast expression, he continued hurriedly. "In my defense, Muggle-born witches are not common in the US, especially Muggle-born witches who are completely unaware of the magical world. Had I any idea I would have seen you again, I would not have done it."  
  
"You would have left me ignorant? I could have been a danger to myself or others!" Scully's frayed nerves were beginning to show. Remembering the exploding flowers, Mulder busied himself with flipping through Magical Theory.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes were gentle. "It wasn't my place to help you. I did what I could: I informed the Ministry that an unregistered witch was in the country, and they've been keeping an eye on you since your arrival."  
  
"Percy."  
  
"Yes." His eyes were grave. "Percy was one of my best and brightest students. Unfortunately, he's had to learn many things the hard way, not least of which, the fallibility of the Ministry."  
  
"What about Dr. Wei?"  
  
"Another one of my former students, and an interesting story. As I'm sure you've noticed, Dr. Wei is uncommonly intelligent and hardworking. What you may not know is that the Weis are a very old and very powerful Wizarding family. When Cho's mother married Liangru Chang, a philanthropist in the Muggle world, both had very high hopes for their daughter, and she has exceeded all expectations. In the Magical world, Dr. Wei goes by her father's name, where it will give her no special advantage. In the Muggle world, she uses her mother's, for the same reason. She is equally distinguished in both worlds."  
  
"And Severus?"  
  
"Severus Snape teaches potions in my former school. He has been, in order, the protégé of a powerful dark wizard, a spy against said dark wizard, an assassin of the supporters of said dark wizard, researcher extrordinaire, and, most recently, my mole in the Brisbin Institute."  
  
"I see, and what about Harold?"  
  
Dumbledore's face paled. "Harold?"  
  
"The desk clerk. Every casual acquaintance I've made on this trip has turned out to be involved in this somehow. Why not Harold?"  
  
"I see." Dumbledore had calmed visibly. "To my knowledge, the desk clerk is not involved, though should you have the pleasure to meet a Harry Potter, give him my regards. Not that he'd believe you, with my being dead and all, but it would make me feel better."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
"Well, it seems to be getting late, and I'm sure you'll want to peruse some of these books before you meet with Dr. Wei tomorrow morning."  
  
"Mr. Dumbledore, what exactly do you want us to do tomorrow?"  
  
His gaze drifted from her to Mulder, then back to Scully. "I want you to do what you would normally do in such a case. Dr. Scully, I want you to note but not mention anything magical you may sense or see. When you are finished at the Brisbin Institute for the day, Percy will meet you back at the hotel to discuss what must be done regarding your status with the Ministry. He will also take you to get a wand. Oh yes, and Severus would like his back, if you don't mind, seeing as you'll soon have one of your own tomorrow."  
  
Scully reluctantly handed the beautiful wand to Dumbledore. He rolled it delicately in his fingers. "I'm surprised you were able to get any results from this wand. Like Severus, this wand looks to be quite temperamental. "  
  
"Well, I did manage to blow up a vase of flowers outside Liangru's office. "  
  
"I see. Most accidental magic happens during moments of emotional stress, usually fear or anger." Dumbledore looked pointedly at Mulder, then turned back to Scully. "Do your best to avoid agitation until you are able to gain a little more control over how your skills manifest themselves."  
  
Scully let out a harsh chuckle. "If confusion counts as agitation, then agitation is inevitable."  
  
"I daresay I've filled your heads enough for this evening. Hopefully they'll be nice and empty again by the time I see you again, and we can discuss Nicholas's works further. Mr. Mulder?" He extended his hand to Mulder, who shook it. "Dr. Scully." Instead of shaking her proffered hand, he kissed it gallantly. "Good luck, my dear. You're everything I could have hoped for in an ally. Until next time!" Dumbledore swirled his cloak around himself theatrically and vanished with a pop.  
  
"People come and go so quickly here!" exclaimed Mulder in his best Judy Garland voice.  
  
"Magic. Aliens. 500-year old Alchemists." Scully flopped backwards on the bed and began massaging her eyelids. "Is it just me, or do you also feel like your brain is leaking out your ears?"  
  
Mulder ruffled her hair, and she smacked his hand away half-heartedly. "No agitation. I might blow you sky high."  
  
Mulder snorted and just managed to repress a comment about being blown by Scully. At his reaction, she realized her unfortunate wording and smacked his arm.  
  
"Mulder!"  
  
"What did I say?"  
  
"Honestly!" She huffily turned over on her stomach and began leafing through volume one of Standard Book of Spells. He smiled at the back of her head, and lay down next to her with One-Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.  
  
They lay there reading in companionable silence until Mulder began snoring softly. His head lay on the open book in front of him, and the mandrake in the illustration (which moved, naturally) protested silently. His hair was sticking out in odd directions and she could tell that he'd have red marks on the bridge of his nose the next day from sleeping in his glasses. She smiled to herself, then impulsively leaned over and affectionately kissed him on the forehead. He murmured in his sleep, then began snoring in earnest. Taking care not to move the bed too much, she gathered volumes 1-3 of her spell books and retired to Mulder's daisy-scented bathroom to work on her pronunciation.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Expel-lee-yaaaaaar-mus. Expel-li-yaaaar-mus. Ex-PEL-ee-yarmus. Expelliarumus!"  
  
Mulder awoke around 1AM to the sounds of strange chanting coming from his room. Oops. Guess he'd kicked Scully out of her room. It didn't sound like she was sleeping though. He crept quietly to the bathroom and peeked around the door. Scully was holding a pencil in her hand and brandishing it threateningly at her reflection. She waved the pencil at her reflected self.  
  
"Stoooo-pi-fieeee. Sto-PEEEE-fy. Stupefy!"  
  
She broke eye contact with her reflection and consulted the book on the counter.  
  
"Im-ped-eeee-mentia. Impedi-MEN-tia. Impedi-Mulder!" She finally noticed him peeking around the corner and flushed. "I was just trying to memorize a few helpful spells."  
  
He flipped through the book, noticing the pages she'd marked. "Disarming spells? Stunning? Why don't you just turn them into frogs or something?"  
  
"That's transfiguration, and I don't know anything about how to do it. I think I can figure out charms fairly well, so long as I'm not pronouncing them incorrectly." She yawned, suddenly exhausted. "Maybe Dr. Wei can help me tomorrow. What time is it?"  
  
"It's about 1. Don't you think you've done enough studying for tonight? You have to be awake for the autopsy tomorrow."  
  
She yawned again. "I wish I had a wand now. There's just so much to learn." She looked very small and pale then, with her hair falling in her face.  
  
Using great care, Mulder guided her back to her rose-covered bed. He turned down the blankets for her. "Hey Scully, what's the difference between a spell and a charm?"  
  
She allowed him to help out of her jeans and into bed. "A charm is a spell utilizing trigger words to activate the magical energy. A spell is a general term for magical energy released with a specific intent."  
  
He pulled the covers up over her. "What's your favorite spell so far?"  
  
She sleepily pondered the question. Settling into her sleeping position and fanning her hair out over the pillow, she murmured. "Accio." Sme smiled sleepily. "Definitely Accio."  
  
Mulder leaned close and whispered, "You'll be brilliant tomorrow, Scully." On a sudden impulse, he kissed her forehead tenderly. She murmured something unintelligible, and her breathing fell into slow and regular intervals.  
  
He turned off the lamp by her bedside and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The ambient light from the street below cast a bluish glow over the room, darkening the rose hues to deep purple and illuminating her fair skin. He allowed himself a few moments of watching her, unburdened in slumber before returning to his own room.  
  
He fell into a deep sleep and had very strange dreams that he couldn't remember the next day.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A/N Dolphin communication issues sit comfortably astride Douglas Adams and Madeline L'Engle. Some phraseology, which here means "startlingly familiar words strung together in a startlingly familiar way " respectfully borrowed from Lemony Snicket's delightfully dreadful "Series of Unfortunate Events." Speaking of things I don't own, any images of brains leaking out one's ears is a semi-deliberate reference to Lori Summer's fabulous "Paradigm of Uncertainty." Oh, and I don't own The Wizard of Oz, in case you were wondering. (  
  
Ozma- From the bottom of me, thank you for your support and comments. It makes my day to read your reviews. Incidentally, I'm really glad you like the story! Any additional comments you wish to make either by reviewing or emailing me would be appreciated. Once again, you're the best!  
  
Ryven- I hope this chapter answered a few of your questions. I was kind of freaked about this chapter because I didn't want to give everything away. Besides, I was afraid that all the information might make Mulder and Scully (or me) spontaneously combust.  
  
MusicalRose-I'm glad you approve of the weird chapter titles. I'm having fun. Each is the musical term that best describes the mindset I was in while either writing the chapter or posting. I'm glad you're enjoying!  
  
Cid62- Believe it or not, I'm a former (not current) X-Files fan myself. I haven't watched the show for over two whole seasons now. That's why I'm setting it in 1998. I've no desire to deal with any Requiem/OverdoneMessianicSymbolism nonsense. 


	9. Gesamtkunstwerk

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for various gross (albeit nonviolent) things in this chapter. If postmortems squick you, meet me on the other side… and don't ever watch the X-Files.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Spoilers: X-Files through season 5 (though there are a few little references to things that we find out in later seasons… nothing too wicked), Harry Potter through Goblet of Fire. There are possible pre- emptive spoilers through book 7, but we won't know for sure until they're written, now will we?  
  
Disclaimer: Who can own a tree? A book? An idea? Not me, apparently.  
  
Author's Note: Ok, so this chapter contains ickiness, but I had to offset the wholesome Harry Potter bits with some good-old X-Files gore. What better way than with a postmortem investigation? It also took forever to post. Mea maxima culpa. My excuse is that I had to prepare for and entertain an apartment full of ultimate Frisbee players for the duration of a tournament. Fun except for the team snoring. Questions answered and love given in endnotes.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Ninth  
  
BANG!  
  
Scully was jarred awake by a crash at the window.  
  
BANG!  
  
Grabbing a shoe from the floor, she pulled back the curtain just in time to see-  
  
BANG!  
  
A large bird crashed into the window; not hard enough to break the glass, but hard enough to make quite a racket. When it noticed her standing at the window, it awkwardly hovered in the air, plainly waiting for her to open the window, which she did. The bird, a beautiful tawny owl, sailed silently into her room and dropped a scroll on the desk. It then perched on the chair and began preening.  
  
Scully picked up the scroll and examined the seal, a proud "P," then unrolled the parchment. In neat cursive was written:  
  
Dr. Scully,  
  
A mutual friend informs me that you are in need of a wand and basic supplies. I will meet you in the lobby of your hotel at 5:45 this evening. Please bring all the Muggle money you can. I suspect you will want to spend a great deal in Diagon Alley, the premier London shopping area for our kind, and you will be able to exchange your money once we get there. I suggest cashing any traveler's cheques you may have, since no stores will accept them and the goblins charge exorbitant sums for exchanging them for Galleons. Dr. Wei will lend you appropriate attire for the excursion. You will be posing as my cousin, which, given the colour of your hair, would never be questioned by anyone familiar with my family. Good luck with your investigation.  
  
Regards,  
  
Percival A. Weasley  
  
P.S. Give Hermes the attached owl treat if he managed to get this letter to you unscathed. He's been a bit shirty about the mail recently, ever since my brother George gave him an exploding package that went off before delivery.  
  
Scully peeled off the brown morsel that was taped to the parchment and gingerly fed it to the owl, who downed it in one gulp. He gave her an appraising glance, then flew out the open window.  
  
Well, that explained the bizarre avian behavior she'd observed the previous morning. Unfortunately, the net effect of Percy's missive was still confusion. Galleons? Wizard shopping centers? Goblins? She shook her head and glanced at the clock. Not bad. Only a half hour before she had meant to wake anyway. She dragged herself into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While undressing, she realized that she was wearing a t-shirt and underwear instead of her pyjamas. Had she been that spaced-out the night before? She studied herself in the mirror and made a face; ugh, unruly hair, pillow lines and dark circles. A good shower should fix all that. When the mirror began to steam up, she stepped under the hot spray and let it massage the tension out of her neck and shoulders. Her mind was beginning to emerge from the morning fog. As she massaged shampoo into her hair, she recited the spells she'd learned the night before.  
  
She emerged from the shower refreshed, embracing the cool morning air that blew in from the window. She was a little nervous about entering the Magical world for the first time, but the excitement that accompanies all great discoveries alleviated her anxiety quite a bit. Having dressed- a more casual suit than yesterday's severe black and much lower heels-, she snuck into Mulder's room and took Liangru's case file from the desk. Mulder was still sawing logs, and she figured she'd let him sleep a while longer yet. Besides, it would give her a few minutes alone with the file without distractions.  
  
She gave the pictures of the body a quick glance, since she figured she'd be studying the actual body later that morning. There appeared to be very little decomposition, so the victim had either been found shortly after death or the manner of death had preserved the body unnaturally. Aside from the obvious necrosis of the tissue layers, the body didn't appear to have suffered much preliminary trauma; no broken bones or evidence of violence. The primary investigator's notes shed very little light on the circumstances under which the body was discovered, the location of the body, or even the identity of the victim; in other words, they were very heavily edited.  
  
She sighed. This was going to be one of those political messes; inconvenient for investigators simply because anyone who knew the truth had something to hide, and anyone with useful information would manage to bury it in speculation or half-truths. Why else hire foreign investigators? She had the feeling that they were expected to fail, and were even being paid well to do so. She went through the report again, focused on finding the lines and reading between them.  
  
When Mulder finally stumbled into her room looking much in need of coffee, she closed the file. "Ready for some breakfast before disturbing the deceased?"  
  
Mulder grumbled in assent.  
  
Scully strode briskly out her door and down the hall before noticing that Mulder was dragging his feet. She tsked at him. "Yesterday's meals slowing you down a bit?"  
  
Mulder grumbled irritably.  
  
"That settles it. Today I'm choosing the restaurants and ordering your breakfast. You'll thank me for this later."  
  
He groaned. Good. He was waking up.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
After a breakfast of grain muffins, fruit, yogurt and granola ("more roughage than you can shake a stick at" as Mulder delicately termed it), they greeted Harold, the desk clerk, and boarded their bus to the Brisbin Institute. The day was slightly less agreeable than the day before; an increase in humidity made clothing sticky and hair frizz. Scully was glad she'd worn a suit with a skirt today and hoped that Mulder wouldn't be too uncomfortable in his long pants. Though he was loath to admit it, the healthier breakfast had done wonders for Mulder's energy level. He was quietly rhapsodizing on the properties of the herbs and fungi he'd read about the night before and their fokloric/Muggle equivalents. Since she'd not had the opportunity to look through the book, she was grateful for the briefing. When he asked her permission to look through her other books that evening, she remembered the owl.  
  
"Percy wants to hit the magic stores at 5:45 tonight."  
  
He raised his eyebrows insinuatingly. "When did you see Percy?"  
  
"I didn't. He sent me his owl."  
  
"His owl, hm?" Mulder's facility for sledgehammer double entendre was fully awake. Scully ignored his tone.  
  
"Apparently that's how Wizards deliver mail."  
  
"I see. Do they utilize all birds or just owls?"  
  
"I'm not sure. Every Magical courier I've seen has been an owl, though it seems almost a waste to have such a large bird delivering something like a postcard."  
  
"One would think."  
  
She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Of course, our concepts of size and weight are illusions, according to Magical Theory."  
  
"Speaking of which, when are you going to be able to transfigure things? That sounded interesting."  
  
"I don't know. I haven't spoken to anyone about getting training beyond what I can glean from the books."  
  
"No other strange birds in your room this morning, then?"  
  
"Other than the turkey who complained about my choice of breakfast, no."  
  
"Oh, so we're continuing with the fowl puns today?"  
  
"The last thing I need to do is egg you on."  
  
"Oh!" Mulder exclaimed, jerking himself out of pun-mode. "Speaking of strange eggs, I found several references in Magical Herbs and Fungi to a book called Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. It seems like a fairly definitive work, written by someone named N. Scamander. When you go shopping today, see if you can pick up a copy for me."  
  
"Right. Anything else you want me to bring back for you?"  
  
"Detailed descriptions of everything." He was silent for a moment. "They probably don't allow Muggles there, do they?"  
  
Noting the wistfulness in Mulder's voice, Scully replied briskly. "Don't you think Percy has enough to worry about keeping me from making an idiot of myself?"  
  
"You and Percy could be brother and sister. The worst they'll think is that you're an eccentric."  
  
"Can I give you an IOU on your indoctrination into Magical Consumerism until I can do it myself?"  
  
He smiled and squeezed her hand. "It's a date."  
  
The rest of the ride was uneventful, though at one point Mulder swore he saw two swallows carrying a round package on what appeared to be a strand of creeper. Scully rolled her eyes.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
There were two identification badges and a map of the building waiting for them at the security desk. The guard rang up to Liangru's office and told them to wait in the lobby. Mulder wandered over to the koi pond and contemplated tossing in a penny.  
  
"What would you wish for?" Scully followed his gaze toward the sign that read, "Please do not throw coins."  
  
He smirked, remembering the last time he'd been asked that question. "Definitely not peace on earth."  
  
"A never-ending sack of turnips, then?"  
  
"Naah, that's been done."  
  
"I might wish for knowledge of some kind."  
  
"But look where wishing for the knowledge of good and evil got us."  
  
"I doubt Eden was all it was cracked up to be. No underwire brassieres."  
  
He smirked. "Or high heels."  
  
"Or high heels. Maybe there were some good things about paradise after all."  
  
"Without knowledge of evil, could there have been good?" Mulder and Scully spun around. Apparently Liangru had the same skill at silent movement as his daughter. "I trust you had a restful evening?"  
  
"I'm feeling much better today, thank you. Now that I've had the chance to look through the file, there are many things about this case that intrigue me."  
  
"I only wish I could answer your questions. I personally haven't even read through the file. The pictures on top were enough of a deterrent."  
  
Mulder's eyebrows drew together. "You don't know anything about this case?"  
  
"One of the directors on my floor handed me the file and asked me to take care of it. Fortunately, he was also able to direct me to you. I wouldn't have known where to begin finding credible supernatural investigators. I can't remember ever having had an assignment like this. I work mostly in administration anymore."  
  
Scully and Mulder exchanged a surreptitious look.  
  
"Can we have the name of the man who gave you the file?"  
  
"His name is Lawrence Malfait. Good luck trying to set up an appointment."  
  
"Why, does he work off-site?"  
  
"That, and the admin assistant has a tendency to "lose" appointments."  
  
Scully had little difficulty picturing the difficult young man at the receptionist's desk doing such a thing. "Can't you request a new assistant?"  
  
"I could request one, but as long as Malfait and I are sharing an assistant I doubt he'll be replaced."  
  
Mulder nodded, comprehension dawning. "A relative?"  
  
Liangru sighed. "His son. Only a year and a half younger than Cho, if you can believe it. I think Malfait is grooming him to take over his position one day." Liangru shook his head. "Maybe he'll be ready in another sixty years."  
  
"Well Mr. Chang, lead us to the body. I'm sure Scully's just itching to get into the old latex gloves, and I'd like to pick your brain about Mr. Malfait a bit, if you don't mind."  
  
"Very well, after dropping off Dr. Scully, shall we adjourn to my office?"  
  
Scully smiled. "Why is it that Mulder always gets to schmooze over coffee and I get stuck cutting the corpses?"  
  
"Maybe you should have thought of that before going into pathology, Scully."  
  
"Cho tells me that pathologists are always getting stiffed." Liangru led them to the elevator and pressed a seven-digit code into a keypad below the regular floor buttons. The elevator squealed as if shifting into a seldom- used gear and began descending slowly.  
  
"I'm afraid you'll need me or someone else with the codes in order to access the lower floors," he explained apologetically. You'll notice that security is much tighter down here. The few projects of which I am aware are not so much dangerous as they are controversial." He caught Mulder's eye. "Sometimes I find it wise not to ask too many questions, at least not here."  
  
Mulder nodded and followed Scully and Liangru down a wide, gleamingly white hallway.  
  
"Will I have an assistant for the autopsy, Mr. Chang?"  
  
"Oh yes. Cho expressed great interested in seeing an autopsy performed up close. She's also pretty handy with surgical tools; a skill she gained in her graduate school days when she got stuck with the grislier laboratory chores, like euthanizing sick mice and collecting and preparing slides of organ tissue."  
  
Scully smiled broadly. "I'm sure she'll be a great help." Things were definitely looking up  
  
They stopped in front of a heavy looking metal door. Liangru keyed in the pass code and ushered Mulder and Scully into a small but immaculate autopsy bay. Cho looked up from the book she was reading and smiled at them, her eyes lingering on Scully. Scully noted the circles under Cho's eyes and wondered how much discussion had gone on after Dumbledore left the hotel the previous night.  
  
Good mornings and pleasantries were exchanged, and when proximity to the white-shrouded corpse on the table became too much for Liangru, he politely excused himself and Mulder. On his way out, Mulder whispered in Scully's ear. "Why is it that I always get stuck schmoozing over coffee and you get to hang out with charming magical types?"  
  
"Maybe you should have thought about that before going into psychology, Mulder."  
  
Scully closed the door behind them and turned to Cho. "So, where should we begin?"  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cho tossed Scully a plastic Harrods bag, which she deftly caught. "I thought you might want to have a look before we're up to our arms in it."  
  
Scully's eyes were wide as she examined the silver trimming on the midnight blue robe. It had the look of something painstakingly handmade, but the tiny stitches were even and well concealed.  
  
"I take it that this didn't come from Harrods." She folded it carefully and put it back into the bag.  
  
Cho feigned horror. "Heavens no, it's from Gladrag's Diana Collection." She pronounced it "Di-AWN-ah," but was only able to maintain the pretension for a moment before bursting into giggles. "I figured if you're going to be shopping at Diagon Alley in the evening, you should be dressed to impress, especially if Percy takes you someplace nice for dinner."  
  
Scully was about to respond sarcastically when it struck her how long it had been since she'd been on a date-date. Not that this was a date-date. More of an undercover job. A learning experience. Undercover learning in a smashing velvet robe with a virile red-head. No, that can of worms was best left unopened. Scully placed the bag with her purse and began donning her scrubs. Cho followed suit.  
  
"So, what does one wear under robes?" Scully snapped her double-layered latex glove into place.  
  
Cho cocked an insinuating eyebrow at her for a moment, then blushed. "Oh! You mean for yourself. For most robes you can wear whatever you want. Lots of us go incognito in the Muggle world and wear street clothes underneath." Cho's voice was slightly muffled as she adjusted her surgical mask. "But this one is designed to be more like an evening dress. It even has its own built-in support."  
  
Scully looked at her owlishly from behind her protective eyewear. "Isn't it a little outlandish for standard evening wear?"  
  
"Not if you wear a coat over it. Or I can lend you a cloak. It will just look like you're out for a night at the opera." Cho was fiddling with her own gloves. "You know, for one of my robes it's really subdued. I figured you wouldn't look good in fire engine red or yellow."  
  
"No, definitely not. What kind of shoes should I wear with it?" Scully removed her shoes and slipped scrub booties over her bare feet.  
  
"Witches tend to go for comfort rather than style, but the robe is long enough that you could get away with wearing Birkenstocks if you wanted."  
  
"What if the robes don't fit?" Scully put her hair back neatly and tied her paper cap firmly in place. She'd learned her lesson about hair during autopsies the hard way.  
  
"It's a Diana. They're guaranteed to fit for a lifetime, no matter what shape you're in."  
  
"Does it function on the same principle as a transfiguration charm?"  
  
"Basically, though it had to be calibrated to respond to the wearer. Kind of a neat bit of technology. I take it you've been doing some reading?"  
  
Scully grimaced as she adroitly knotted the ties on the back of her surgical gown. "Some, but I haven't been able to practice or anything, since I don't have a wand." Her voice became brisk. "Well, shall we get started, then?"  
  
"Let's. I think the diener got everything laid out. If there's anything missing we're kind of screwed. I don't have any of the codes to get anywhere except the elevator."  
  
"If worst comes to worst, I've gotten pretty good at improvising with shoelaces." Scully walked over to the tray beside autopsy table and examined the list of external measurements left by the diener. Odd, usually the diener stayed to assist, not just leave the body and run. It was almost a shame that Cho was too nice to deserve "running the gut;" a malodorous but necessary part of an investigative autopsy. But she'd worry about that when the time came.  
  
Scully pulled the sheet unceremoniously off the body on the table and pressed the record button on the battered tape player. "July 15th, 8:45AM, Brisbin Institute, postmortem examination of Mr. John Doe. Prosector is Dr. Dana Scully assisted by Dr. Cho Wei."  
  
The 2-inch section of Cho's face that Scully could see had a distinct green cast to it, but she was paying determined attention to everything Scully did.  
  
Scully verbally noted all external damage on the anterior side of the body, carefully measuring the "eaten away" areas and noting their slightly inflamed edges. Cho shuddered at the implication that the victim was still alive when the damage to his body occurred. Scully collected tissue samples from the wounds and plunked them into vials of formalin that Cho subsequently labeled and capped. Scully then took scrapings from underneath the fingernails and scrubbed leaves and dirt particles from the victim's hair. The two women then roughly turned the body over ("It's not as if we'll hurt him") and Scully described the posterior, noting two previously unnoticed puncture wounds in the splenius cervicis region, at the back of the neck. She swabbed these and took tissue samples. When Scully had finished the external examination, they flipped the body over again. She caught Cho's eye before inserting her scalpel.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Cho took a shaky breath and nodded. "I think I'll be all right once we're inside. But looking all over the outside makes it impossible for me to pretend is something other than a person. Once you make the cut, it's just a big rat."  
  
Scully wrinkled her nose underneath her surgical mask. She privately felt that she knew more people deserving of such treatment than rats; not that she was particularly fond of rats. She dismissed the thought with a shrug and began cutting.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A few hours and a score of severed ligaments later, Scully and Cho had obtained samples from every major organ and from various points along the alimentary canal. Scully was pleased to find that the acrid feces-vomit smell that accompanied opening the bowels had dissipated rapidly, thanks to an efficient ventilation system. Cho had assisted admirably, although she didn't seem too eager to give up her current life and go into pathology. She'd been an extra set of hands for tying off the blood vessels and she had meticulously kept track of organ size and weight. Fortunately, the diener had done his or her job and Scully didn't have to utilize any shoelaces. In the end, Scully and Cho had a neatly labeled collection of tissues and incidental matter for later analysis.  
  
After covering up the body, discarding their surgical wear and a scrubbing thoroughly, Scully and Cho were soon talking like old friends. Scully was especially interested in Cho's experiences in wizard school, but the conversation had quickly veered away from scholarly discussion.  
  
"…so then it exploded, and everyone who got hit with the potion had erotic dreams about him for a week, even the guys!"  
  
Scully's sides ached from laughing. She had been frightened of Severus before and was enjoying Cho's fresh perspective of him. As a matter of fact, she doubted that she could keep straight face if she ever met him again. "Did he ever find out what the potion did?"  
  
"I think he had an inkling when he received 15 owls the next morning, all bearing vows of undying love."  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
"He took away points from the people who signed their names and was in an even fouler mood until his anonymous suitors finally got the hint."  
  
"Did he ever find that you were behind it?"  
  
"Miss Perfect Prefect Chang? Never!"  
  
They were laughing so hard that Cho almost missed someone paging her over the loudspeaker.  
  
"Damn! I thought they'd be all right without me this morning."  
  
"But it's already afternoon." Scully smiled sheepishly. "Time flies when you're dissecting kidneys."  
  
"Double damn, I've got to get back to work. Give my love to Liangru and your partner, I'll see you Monday." She grabbed the tray of tissue samples. "I'll run these up to the freezer in my lab; we can start in on them Monday, if you don't mind my hanging around."  
  
"Not at all. It's much friendlier with two."  
  
Cho smiled and hugged Scully awkwardly with the one arm that wasn't occupied with the samples. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun tonight! You'll look like a million quid in that robe." Cho winked roguishly. "Percy won't know what hit him." She strode out the door whistling a familiar tune.  
  
Scully's laughter floated after her when she realized it was "Mrs. Robinson,"  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Author's Endnotes: Bad Mundungus42! //slaps self with rolled-up newspaper// In ten chapters I've managed to break both promises to myself against overt Monty Python references and cheating with timelines. Yes, I know Je Souhaite is 7th season, but it's a funny episode that could have happened at any time during the series… or at least that's what I'm telling myself. I'm not deliberately fudging the Harry Potter timeline, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know so I can change them.  
  
Special thanks to Ed Uthman of the American Board of Pathology for his online writer's guide to autopsies. If you ever have to write an autopsy scene, check out http://www.neosoft.com/~uthman/Autop.html  
  
Musical Rose- I advise you turn down the volume on your shipping radar, lest you be led astray by false alarms. The only hint I'm giving is simply: what fun is mixing canons if it's all M/S?  
  
Gethsemane- I agree, Mulder is the more obvious choice, but a friend of mine forced me to watch All Things, and it is from that episode that the idea came. I thought a Magical Mulder would be too neat n' tidy, emotionally speaking. There's more than enough angst to go around this way.  
  
Caitlyn- as always, thank you so much for your support! I'm glad you're enjoying.  
  
Amanda- I just know Dumbledore is going to snuff it in a future Harry Potter book, so I'm saving him for my personal fanon. He's just so much fun to write! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Ariana Deralte- I'll have a look at the formatting on chapter 6. Was that the chapter that confused you as to Dr. Wei's identity? If so, I'll fix it. I fear that I've fallen prey to one of the fanfic no-nos: occasionally forgetting to set the scene and characters at the beginning of each chapter. I blame it on my own inexperience with longer formats and on butterfly wing-flapping in China. Thank you for continuing to read after I managed to confuse you and leaving such nice and helpful reviews.  
  
Up next: Girly primping bits (I'm a sucker for girly primping bits), Hottie!Percy, and (drumroll) an appearance by Draco Malfoy. He will not be in leather. 


	10. Pizzicato

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for the heck of it.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Spoilers: X-Files through season 5 (though there are a few little references to things that we find out in later seasons… nothing too wicked), Harry Potter through Goblet of Fire.  
  
Disclaimer: My military knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventurey, has only been brought up to the beginning of last century. But STILL! In matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, I am the very model of a modern major general.  
  
Archive: If you want, but let me know where.  
  
Author's Note: I'll be on vacation next week and probably won't be able to update until I return to civilization. However, I will have at least one chapter to post by that time. Hope I didn't confuse y'all by combining the prologue and Chapter the First. It's still no "O For a Muse of Fire," but I think it's a more substantial beginning this way. Love and answers in my uber-endnotes.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Eleventh  
  
The rest of the afternoon was fairly uneventful. Scully met up with Mulder and Liangru for a late lunch; it seems they'd lost track of time, too. They touched briefly on the case (Scully figured that divulging details of the postmortem over lunch would be in questionable taste), but then turned to talking about safe topics: old cases, current events, and families. Scully found herself wondering about Liangru's experiences as a Muggle with a Magical wife and child. How much was he allowed to know about their world? To what extent could he participate in it? Would he be able to guess that she was a witch? She knew better than to ask; there was no telling who knew what, and she wasn't about to tip her hand any more than she had to.  
  
Lunch ended, and she and Mulder were granted a reprieve for the rest of the afternoon. Apparently, Mulder had explained to Liangru that their hours tended to be irregular when working on a case. As they stood to shake hands and leave, Liangru grinned at Scully.  
  
"Cho mentioned that she was lending you a 'date' outfit tonight. I hope you have a wonderful time."  
  
Scully blushed slightly. "Thank you. Your daughter has excellent taste in clothes."  
  
"I take it she didn't lend you the red thing, then?"  
  
"No." How well did he know his daughter's magical wardrobe? She didn't want to find out. Scully smiled inwardly at the thought of clothes being an unsafe topic of discussion. Oh well, a closed mouth gathers no foot. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Chang- Liangru."  
  
Mulder shot her a curious glance before he extended his hand to Liangru. "I'll see that she's not out until the wee hours. Thank you for all your help."  
  
"If there are things you wish to discuss further, Mr. Mulder, don't hesitate to call me."  
  
They took their leave of Liangru and made their way to the street, where Scully hailed a cab. During the ride back to the hotel, Scully briefed Mulder on the things she'd noticed during the autopsy. Mulder asked no questions, merely nodding at her observations. She had to prod him to get any information about his meeting with Liangru out of him.  
  
She tsked in exasperation. "What is wrong with you, Mulder?"  
  
He didn't look at her. "It doesn't add up."  
  
"What in this case DOES add up? People are deliberately withholding evidence, not just from us, but from Liangru and from Cho. Physical evidence on the body is sketchy at best. The only thing we're doing is obfuscating any kind of wrongful death claims against the Brisbin Institute. Anything we learn is what they wanted us to learn. They planned everything to the letter and we can't do anything but follow their lead at this point."  
  
They lapsed into silence.  
  
"Not everything."  
  
"What?"  
  
"They didn't plan for everything, Scully. We've still got one very large ace in the hole."  
  
A fat lot of good her magic was going to do. "How is an untrained-" she glanced the cabbie warily. "-individual such as myself going to be of any assistance on this case, other than in my usual capacity?"  
  
"I guess we're going to have to hit the-" he smirked, "-individual books pretty hard tonight and find out. Or we can enlist the help of the lovely Dr. Wei or Chang, whatever she goes by."  
  
"I'll ask Percy if he has any ideas."  
  
"If you're lucky, he may be as good at individual investigational techniques as he is at tailing." Mulder's voice had a nasty edge.  
  
Scully surprised herself by snapping. "That was uncalled for. He's had experience with-" she paused, "-individuality his entire life. You think an evening of studying books can compete with that?"  
  
"So you think an evening of flouncing around in your shopping center will be more productive than studying?"  
  
Flouncing!? "If 'flouncing' around a shopping center is what Mr. White recommends, I'm going to do it. I'm sure you can find something to entertain yourself while I'm gone. It's not as if your studying individuality will benefit you, after all."  
  
Had he not already been agitated, Scully would have missed the flicker of hurt in Mulder's eyes. It was quickly replaced by anger. "So is that how it's going to be? I stay at the hotel and twiddle my thumbs while you run around with the individualist community? You have no idea what you're getting into, Scully. Recklessly jumping into some individualist crusade without thinking about anyone else?"  
  
She smiled without humor. He was worried about her. His heart was in the right place, but he was acting like a child. "I doubt anybody in the big scary shopping center will bother me, Mulder. I promise to look both ways before crossing the street and not to talk to any strangers. Now if you're finished lecturing me in the art of calling the kettle black, I'd like to go over some of my notes from this morning." She pulled out her notebook and began flipping noisily through her notes. Hopefully he would take the hint.  
  
Mulder's lips were pursed, but he didn't say anything for the rest of the ride.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Scully let the tension drain from her mind as expert fingers massaged shampoo into her scalp. She had meant to get her hair cut for the past few weeks, but had never really had the chance to make an appointment with her usual stylist before packing off to England. The salon in the hotel was overpriced but well equipped. Since she was going for the evening, why not just have them style it after cutting it? Besides, she needed a break from Mulder's pouting. The rush of water through her hair was as soothing mentally as it was physically. She was almost sorry when the towel came, rubbing her ears and neck dry and twisting her wet hair up.  
  
She allowed herself to be ushered into a chair and swathed in plastic by the man with the drifting accent (it was Spanish now, though it had sounded vaguely Russian while he was washing her hair). When he had finished snipping and drying, he moved her to another chair where he began curling and spraying. While the stylist was working, a second man began fussing over her nails, scolding her for neglecting her cuticles. The manicurist cajoled her into letting him shape her nails and push back her cuticles, though she drew the line at the acrylic nails he wanted to affix. She couldn't imagine working in the lab or doing field work with claws. When a third beautician showed her their line of organic purifying facial masks, she began to giggle. This was too much. She shooed the mask man away and took a sip of the water (with a lemon slice, naturally) that someone had provided for her and chatted with her stylist about her date. Undeterred, the mask man came back later with an enormous box of cosmetics and asked her to describe her gown. She didn't even have the opportunity to look at her hair when it was finished before the he wiped her face clean and began to meticulously apply her makeup.  
  
When her entourage had finished, they spun her toward the mirror to admire their work. Her hair had been pulled back and arranged in a twist to give the illusion of length. Artful curls around her face softened the look- her face. Her cheekbones were more defined, the rosy undertones were more visible and her skin seemed subtly pearlescent. He had done something with light and shadow that made her eyes the focal point of her face. They appeared vividly blue, not pale the way they looked to her every morning in the mirror. Before that moment, she believed her lips were her best feature- and they looked lovely, but the eyes had it. Scully was very pragmatic about her beauty regimen, but this gave her pause. She saw possibilities in her face she'd never thought to explore. Not that she planned to do this to herself every day, but the shading on the eyes, the shape of her lips… those were attainable. She realized that the men were watching her expectantly and allowed her internal smile to spread to her face.  
  
She had just finished charging the services to her room and tipping the trio generously when she realized it was nearly a quarter after five. She hurried to her room and pulled the robe out of the Harrod's bag. She realized with irritation that it fastened with a series of tiny buttons down the back. She slipped it over her head and fastened as many as she could before giving up with an exasperated sigh. The doors between her and Mulder's room were both closed, and she could hear his television. Was he still sulking? She knocked on his door.  
  
"Mulder, can you give me a hand in here?"  
  
She heard him grumble - yep, still sulking - to the door. When he opened it, he faced her bare back. He smiled at the freckles on her shoulders; evidence that she hadn't always been cooped up indoors.  
  
"Well, are you going to help me with the buttons or not? I have seven minutes to finish getting ready."  
  
"You missed a few near the bottom. I have to start over."  
  
While he worked on the tiny buttons, she removed her "work" watch and glanced across the room at her purse. It was a khaki, utilitarian affair; completely unsuitable for an evening out. She decided that the pockets of her jacket would have to do. They were not designed to hold much, but they were better than nothing.  
  
Mulder patted her waist when he'd finished with the buttons. "All right, let's have a look."  
  
She turned to face him and he had to swallow a remark about spending two and-a-half hours in a salon. The robe she wore had a low, square neckline that showed a tantalizing amount of décolletage. It was made of midnight blue silk jacquard and accented at the Empire waist, neckline, and cap sleeves with subtle silver trim. The small cross she always wore glittered at her collarbone. Her hair, her eyes- it was all… exquisite.  
  
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well?"  
  
His face was grave. "You look beautiful, Scully." Then he clasped his hands together melodramatically. "My baby is all grown up! And going off on dates with wizards!"  
  
"Mulder, this is just a shopping date, not a date-date. Cho said I should dress up, so I dressed up. It's her robe. Apparently the place we're going it a little nicer than Target." She crossed the room and grabbed her suit jacket, unsure of why she felt the need to explain to Mulder. She stuffed all the paper money she could into her pockets and threw the jacket over her arm.  
  
"Scully, wait a minute." Mulder went back to his room and brought back a small black bag. "I usually carry my binoculars in here. You can borrow it for the night, if you want."  
  
"Why would I want to borrow your binoculars?"  
  
"The bag, silly. If you tuck the strap in, it looks just like a purse. Except for the word 'Canon' written on the side."  
  
"They'll probably think it's a new designer name, anyway." She took the bag and transferred the contents of her pockets into it. He was being decent, sweet even, in spite of the things she'd said in the cab. "I'm sorry about yelling at you earlier, I'm just a little nervous about tonight."  
  
He raised his hand to cut off any further apologies. "I wasn't Mr. Merry Sunshine either. It's fine. Now get out there and learn something. You have forty-five seconds to get to the lobby before Percy turns into a pumpkin."  
  
"I'll see you later, then."  
  
"Later."  
  
She closed the door gently behind her, relieved to be over with her spat with Mulder. Besides, she had a date. She straightened her shoulders and walked to the elevator, head held high. Besides, she thought as the doors closed, how often did she look good enough to elicit a serious compliment from Mulder?  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Percy glanced at the clock behind the desk before returning to his newspaper. She had four minutes. He sincerely hoped that Dr. Scully was punctual. Though tardiness was something he had grown to tolerate in others, it was a trait that spoke volumes about a person's character, in his opinion. An elevator dinged its arrival, but a cursory glance told him that she wasn't in it. Back to the paper. Today's Times was full of speculation on the museum robbery, even though Scotland Yard had very little physical evidence to go on. In spite of its occasionally inflammatory tone, he preferred the Times to its magical counterpart, the Daily Prophet. The Prophet's coverage of the robbery consisted of a small blurb in the "Muggle World" section (the section was usually buried behind the classified ads) reporting that no magic was used and that none of the artifacts taken had any magical value. Percy shook his head. The paper's myopic Magicentricity was depressing. Didn't anyone else realize the value of everyday items -even nonmagical items- in understanding Magic in Ancient Egypt? Then again, not everyone was fortunate enough to have an Egyptophile brother.  
  
He impatiently checked his watch. One minute to go. He hoped he'd been right to enlist Cho's assistance in outfitting Dana for the night. His youngest brother still blushed when Cho's name came up. Both of them remembered all too vividly what the annals of Hogwarts lore deemed "the red thing." Versions of "the red thing" still turned up at Hogwarts on holidays and at graduation, according to his sister who was in her final year.  
  
The elevator dinged again, and she was there, exactly on time and resplendent in dark blue. Did she really borrow that robe from Cho? It seemed that Dr. Chang's- or whatever she was calling herself nowadays- sense of fashion propriety had improved since their school days. She saw him and smiled. He rose and folded the newspaper under his arm. Time to get in to character. Hopefully, she'd follow his lead. He swept to her side and kissed her formally on the cheek.  
  
"You look radiant, Cousin."  
  
Surprise showed for only a split second before she replaced it with a serene veneer. "And you as well, Cousin. I trust you are well?"  
  
Ooh, she was good. "Very well, thank you. I trust your family are in good health."  
  
"Indeed, they send their regards."  
  
"Cousin Daphne, would you do me the honour of taking a turn with me?"  
  
Her lips quirked at his chosen epithet, but she took his proffered her his arm as if she'd been doing it all her life.  
  
"The honor is mine, Cousin Percival."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Scully didn't drop her Elizabeth Bennett act when they got into the cab, for which Percy was grateful. The rules for the evening had been clearly laid out without any need for extraneous discussion. He didn't even have to instruct her how to behave. All that he had to worry about was the Magic. Good. It was decidedly strange that she was taking this as seriously as he was. His coworkers called him "the worrywart," and his younger brothers had a similar but less polite phrase for it. If he was to deal with the evening crowd at Diagon Alley, he was glad to have like-minded company. Percy gave the driver terse directions, then turned to face his "cousin" for the evening.  
  
Her bearing, even while seated, was that of a queen. Being as composed as she was, each subtle movement was a riddle in itself, and Percy loved riddles. The tilt of her chin indicated confidence, while the blush at her cheeks meant that she was excited. Or wearing makeup. But the tiny curve of her lips fascinated him the most. They seemed to flicker between anticipation and amusement. Now confusion. Confusion? Oh. He realized he was staring and pretended to pick a piece of fluff from her hair.  
  
"I apologize for the pedestrian mode of travel, Daphne, but it's really the fastest way to get where we're going."  
  
"It could be far more pedestrian, Cousin. We could be walking."  
  
"I trust my cousin Bill is well?"  
  
"Indeed, he and his wife have been stationed near Seattle. She is expecting her first child in January. I trust my cousin Bill is also well?"  
  
"He has returned to Ottery-St.-Catchpole for a short time, though he will be returning to Egypt when he has convinced my mother that she needn't introduce him to every eligible lady in the neighborhood. I assume he'll be staying for the rest of the season."  
  
Scully's smile broadened. "After all, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."  
  
Percy felt his ears turn slightly pink at the mention of money, though he kept his expression neutral. He inconspicuously made sure that the section of his cloak that had frayed slightly was tucked firmly underneath him.  
  
They continued learning about one another under the pretext of inquiring after their respective families. Dana revealed that she had lost a sister recently, but refused to discuss the circumstances under which it happened. Percy did not pry. Fortunately, the awkward silence following the conversation's abrupt end was broken by their arrival.  
  
Scully paid the cabbie and joined Percy on the curb.  
  
"May I ask why you wished to come to the National Portrait Gallery?"  
  
"Of course. In the last stall of the second floor restroom, you will find a portrait. Say the password for the evening aloud, and you will be allowed entrance to Diagon Alley. I will meet you on the other side, since it is in poor taste to invade the other sex's restroom."  
  
"How does one obtain the passwords?"  
  
"A friend at the Ministry owed me a favor. Your password is 'orchid.' Mine is 'bracken.' But we should hurry, the Gallery will be closing very soon."  
  
"How may one access Diagon Alley if the Portrait Gallery is closed?"  
  
"The other street entrance is several blocks away in a pub called The Leaky Cauldron, which is open at all hours. I've heard tell that Tom, the owner, hasn't slept for over fifteen years because he can't bear to be away from the bar. The Cauldron is popular for those who shop during the day, but for the evenings it is considered a trifle rustic. Arrival by fire, broomstick, or apparation is also, though out of the question for members of polite society. "  
  
He ushered her into the Gallery, stopping a moment to exchange pleasantries with the curator before speeding through the exhibits to the stairs. Scully wished she could have stopped to look at more of the portraits. One of a woman wearing an ensemble very similar to hers caught her eye, but she didn't want to risk losing Percy. He escorted her up the stairs and showed her to the door of the ladies' restroom.  
  
"If you would be so kind as to wait a few minutes before entering Diagon Alley. I would much prefer not to leave you stranded in case my password proves to be ineffective. My associate at the Ministry has a rather dubious sense of humor."  
  
"Very well. I shall see you on the other side."  
  
Percy made a slight bow and took off toward the men's room down the hall. Scully took a deep breath and pushed open the door.  
  
There were, unsurprisingly, many portraits of ladies on the walls of the bathroom. Scully wondered how the subjects of the paintings would feel about their likenesses being hung in a restroom. She looked in the mirror to check for makeup smudges or loose hairpins, but found none. She adjusted her robe, though the sizing charms made it unnecessary. While she checked her appearance, the door burst open and a woman burst in. She might have been lovely but for a sharp frown crease between her eyebrows and a distasteful expression. She looked Scully up and down and sighed impatiently.  
  
"Are you going through, or are you just going to stand there and expect me to give you password?" Like her face, her voice was attractive except for a sharp edge.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"I'm not going to tell you the password if that's what you're waiting for."  
  
Scully smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you for your concern for my well-being. If you will excuse me, I must meet my cousin." She strode toward the end stall with as much dignity as she could muster.  
  
Inside the stall were the typical accoutrements of such a space, but over the toilet hung a portrait of a formidable-looking lady. She wore a lavender gown, pince-nez and a sprig of lilac in her steel-grey hair. The brass plaque identified her as Lady Augusta Bracknell. Feeling slightly silly, Scully whispered the password. The lady in the portrait blinked.  
  
"Eh? What was that?" She looked down her nose at Scully and sniffed. "You'll have to speak up my dear. Can't be mumbling like a mouse."  
  
"I said 'orchid,' Lady Bracknell."  
  
The lady nodded. "Good." She peered at Scully once more. "I don't believe we have been properly introduced."  
  
"No, my lady, though I shall speak to my cousin about doing so this evening."  
  
"See that you do. Pray, what is your cousin."  
  
"Weasley, my lady."  
  
"The fashionable side or the unfashionable side."  
  
"They are the Weasleys of Ottery-St.-Catchpole."  
  
"Oh, the unfashionable side. Well, all that can be fixed."  
  
"What, the side or the fashion?"  
  
"Both if necessary." Lady Bracknell nodded appraisingly at Scully. "I think she'll do," she remarked seemingly to herself before her portrait swung open to reveal a small, red-curtained room. A liveried footman came forward and quickly transfigured the toilet into a small set of steps and escorted her into the room. Before Scully had a chance to take in her surroundings, the footman positioned her, and drew the curtains. Scully fought to keep her amazement from showing on her face.  
  
Below her was a grand marble staircase leading to an immense room filled with well-dressed people. Every surface in the room was covered flocked velvet wallpaper, gold leaf, more marble, or ceiling-high mirrors. Impossibly large chandeliers flickered with real fire overhead. She could see Percy standing at the top of a similar staircase on the other side, looking slightly nervous.  
  
'MISS DAPHNE DE WINTER AND MISTER PERCIVAL WEASLEY!"  
  
A booming voice filled the room, and everyone below turned to look. Percy caught her eye, and they both began descending their respective staircases to where they met halfway down. As if in a dream, she took Percy's arm and they descended the rest of the way together.  
  
When they reached the main floor, Scully was anxious to find a seat away from the giant staircase. Her knees were beginning to shake.  
  
"MRS. NARCISSA MALFOY, MR. LUCIUS MALFOY, AND MASTER DRACO MALFOY!"  
  
The voice echoed through the grand hall once again, and Percy groaned softly.  
  
"Malfoys. Just what I need tonight."  
  
"I met Narcissa in the powder room. Her name suits her very well." Scully glanced at the painfully attractive family as they descended the stair. Their surname sounded slightly familiar.  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that. Their son Draco made my little brother's life miserable when they were in school together. I didn't know him that well, fortunately."  
  
"What did he do to your brother?"  
  
"Cruel, childish things like tease him about things he couldn't help, like having red hair, such stuff and nonsense."  
  
When the three Malfoys had reached the foot of the stair, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy began chatting with people in the crowd whom they obviously knew. Despite Percy's valiant attempt to sink into the floor, the youngest Malfoy noticed him and smiled nastily. He strutted over to Percy.  
  
"I never thought I'd see the day when a Weasley would have the stones to come in here. Did you win a raffle or something?" His voice was cultivatedly bored, but was slightly nasal.  
  
Percy nodded curtly, but did not respond in kind. "Draco." He turned to Scully. "Cousin, may I present Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"How do you do, Mr. Malfoy. I was fortunate enough to meet your mother only re-" she cut off abruptly and her eyes widened. It was Liangru's bratty secretary! What was he doing here? "Recently," she finished lamely. Damn. Had she given herself away?  
  
Both Percy and Draco had noticed her slip. Percy was slightly alarmed, but Draco had a plainly calculating look on his face.  
  
"Have we met, Miss-?"  
  
"Du Winter. If you will excuse us Draco, Daphne wanted to meet the Clearwaters." He led her hastily away from Draco. When they were out of earshot, he asked, "What's wrong?"  
  
"Draco," Scully whispered frantically. "He works for the Brisbin Institute. He's a secretary. His father is Cho's father's boss. I had no idea he was magical. You don't suppose…" she trailed off, a horrible thought coming to mind. "Percy, I think I've compromised us. If he remembers where he saw me, it's all over."  
  
She didn't need to explain further. Percy pulled a wand from inside his robe and put it up his sleeve. "Will you be all right alone for a few minutes?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine, just go."  
  
Percy smiled. "If this ever becomes declassified information, my brother's children and grandchildren will beg me on cold winter nights to tell them about the night that I hexed and obliviated Draco Malfoy." He kissed her cheek and disappeared into the crowd.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
LONG-WINDED AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
  
I love my Beta. Crystal O. Grapher is a gift from on high. The society bits come mostly from "Pride and Prejudice" (including "it is a truth universally acknowledged…"), but bits of Damiana's "Marrach" may also be creeping in. It is an excellent story, especially if you like Severus/Hermione (which I do!). Lady Bracknell belongs to Oscar Wilde.  
  
Ryven: Excellent spot, m'dear! Oh yes, Malfoy has his hands in all kinds of pots, as we shall see. Thank you for your kind review in spite of the morbid tone of chapter 10.  
  
Ozma: I plan to mentally torture Mulder a wee bit, but he's got an important part to play in this tawdry drama. I promise not to leave him out in the cold. Who would deliver all the horrible puns if I did? As always, thank you so much for reviewing!  
  
Ariana Deralte: I passed for a pathology student? Wow! All that lunchtime autopsy research paid off then (and not just in lost weight.. eugh!)! As for the Mulder/Scully tag-team punning, Mulder has been known to make the odd pun on the show, but most of it is my take on it. I figured since so many horrible things happen to both Mulder and Scully, if they weren't able to defuse their intense relationship with humor they'd either implode or end up having sex all the time. And so they pun… for now. Regarding Malfait, I love the derivations of HP canon names. Dumbledore=bumblebee, etc. "Mal Fait" is my favorite theory for where Malfoy comes from. FYI, Mundungus is low-quality, smelly tobacco of Spanish origin. Hee hee. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Zukatze: my odd sense of chapter title propriety strikes again. We had enough Italian musical terms! Just wait 'til I get to the 2nd Vienna School terms…  
  
Leila C. Snape: Y'know, I agonized of what middle initial to give Percy. I thought, "Arthur, naturally," because of Percival's association to King Arthur (plus, his father is Arthur). But then I figured either Bill or Charlie got "Arthur" as a middle name… but I still like "A" as a middle initial.  
  
Eigwayne: Thank you so much! I'm just glad nobody is thwacking me with herrings for all the puns (other than my Beta). It's exciting for me to juxtapose the two worlds, which both contain great humor and humanity. JKR's world is more whimsical, yet it explores grief and inheritance/destiny as much as the X-Files. So we occasionally get two women giggling over a dead body.  
  
Juryu: Python bits: Mulder notices swallows carrying "round package" on a strand of creeper (Holy Grail, Scene 1) and on the plane, Dumbledore enchanted his book to look like "Olsen's Standard Book of British Birds" (Flying Circus, Bookstore Sketch). Cookie territory? The possibilities are endless! Percy/Scully, Snape/Scully, Percy/Snape, Mulder/Snape, Cho/Scully, Mulder/Cho, Mulder/Malfoy (either one)… I have written some thoroughly horrifying pairings from the Star Wars canon on a dare, so I'm no longer squeamish about naughty bits. I'm just challenging myself to finish this fic before I let myself be distracted by another.  
  
Indigo Ziona: I'm glad you're enjoying naughty Cho. She also fits well into my laughing-wildly-or-weeping paradigm. So much more is in store for her! Thanks for reviewing! 


	11. Klangfarbenmelodie

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence… for now.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Spoilers: X-Files through the first half of season 5 (though there are a few little references to things that we find out in later seasons… nothing too wicked), Harry Potter through Goblet of Fire.  
  
Disclaimer: I doubt there's anything as droll  
  
As the sweet and placid jobberknoll.  
  
And though I write it verse extolling,  
  
It still belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry if I confused a few of y'all with Scully and Percy's grand entrance. Hopefully things will be a little clearer in this chapter. Also, sorry about the chapter order weirdness. I'm beginning to think that FFN has attained sentience and is arguing in its own way that my second chapter should be first. C'est la vie electronique….  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Eleventh  
  
As Percy's red head disappeared from sight, Scully began examining her surroundings further. The crowd was well dressed, at least as far as she could tell. There was a fair show of expensive fabrics, detailed embroidery, and dazzling jewels on the costumes of both the men and women. The men were harder for her to figure, since her knowledge of period costume was limited to ladies' dress. It was fascinating.  
  
She remembered reading a Sherlock Holmes story in her childhood in which the famous detective divined from examining a man's abandoned hat that he was once wealthy, had fallen upon hard times and that his wife had ceased to love him. She doubted the great detective would have done so well against this crowd; not when transfiguration was taught in grade school and sizing charms were available.  
  
Still, the odd lady tugged at the bodice of her robe to make more cleavage, and the occasional gentleman surreptitiously drew his wand to fix the heel that had fallen off of his old shoe. One gentleman was dancing attentions on a lady even though he was obviously allergic to the flowers she wore in her elaborate coiffeur. Wizards and Witches were still people after all.  
  
A black-robed waiter walked by with a tray of beverages, and she took one, following the lead of those around her. She dared a sip. It had bubbles like champagne, and though she first tasted a crisp flavor she knew she should recognize, its body was rich and full with a dozen separate flavors floating in and out. Oddest of all, though the drink was chilled, it left a warm feeling in her mouth.  
  
"You want to be careful with those," a voice said in her ear. "Rumour has it that they're spiked with squandering serum so that you'll spend more in the stores once you tire of licking the nobility's' boots. Assuming the first drink doesn't incapacitate you."  
  
She managed to stop herself from driving an elbow into the solar plexus of the man who was standing entirely too close behind her. She turned to face him and managed to smother the fear, surprise, and amusement that bubbled to the surface. Instead, she graced him with a close-lipped smile that mirrored his own.  
  
"Severus. What a pleasant surprise."  
  
"I see you managed to lose Weasley not five minutes after your grand entrance. That's a trick you must teach me."  
  
"Percy-" she said, emphasizing his first name, "is taking care of a security threat."  
  
"That you pointed out to him, undoubtedly. That boy is about as subtle as-"  
  
"-an undercover agent who approaches another undercover agent in public?"  
  
Severus' smile grew thinner. "I wouldn't expect you to grasp all of the complexities of the situation. Of course, it wouldn't have occurred to you that I might be perfectly in my rights as a member of society to appraise the pedigree and connections of a new arrival."  
  
"So once you discover that I'm connected with the Ottery-St.-Catchpole Weasleys, our conversation will be at an end. But of course you already understand that particular complexity. In which case, I bid you a good evening, Severus." She dismissed him with a cheerful smile.  
  
His lips thinned to the point of disappearing. Scully wondered if it pained him to smile so. "You're not going to get away that easily, Miss De Winter. You haven't yet apprised me of the security threat that Weasley is 'taking care of.'"  
  
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait until your next appointment with Dumbledore, since it looks like some of your friends are getting suspicious." She gestured with an imperceptible nod of the head toward a gaggle of socialites who where gathered around the elder Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy didn't appear to be paying them any attention, but was focused on her and Severus.  
  
Severus looked out of the corner of his eye and gave her a sour look. "Well, it seems there's nothing for it." He extended his hand to her. "Dance with me, Miss De Winter."  
  
She hesitated, and he hissed. "Take my hand, you little fool. Malfoy will be suspicious."  
  
Settling her most fixed smile on her face and reluctantly setting down her drink, she complied. "Absolutely charmed, Severus."  
  
He led her to the dance floor, which was to the left of the grand stair. At one end, an assortment of instruments floated in midair, playing a waltz by themselves. Before she had the chance to gawk at the enchanted orchestra, he whirled her into the dance. When she adjusted to his overbearing lead enough to look at him, she found him studying her intently.  
  
"Do you dance often, Miss De Winter?"  
  
"No, but I've enough experience to follow a lead, assuming the gentleman in question knows how to lead."  
  
"These days, that's assuming a great deal. Now, I hope you will see fit to tell me what inane task you've run Weasley off to do."  
  
"Malfoy works for the Brisbin Institute, and we met briefly. I recognized him when he came over to insult Percy. If he remembers where he saw me, our advantage will be lost."  
  
Severus stumbled over his own foot for what Scully assumed was the first time in his life. "Of course Malfoy works for the Brisbin Institute! You sent Weasley off to take care of Malfoy? Are you insane? He'll be killed! Although…" his lips curved up into a nasty smile. "Under what circumstances did you meet Malfoy?"  
  
"When my partner and I went in to see Liangru Chang for the first time. We exchanged unpleasantries."  
  
"Why would Malfoy concern himself with Liangru Chang?"  
  
"Because he's his secretary. Liangru says that-"  
  
Severus cut her off with a harsh laugh. "Draco Malfoy. I thought you meant Lucius. That's an entirely different matter. Even Weasley could manage Draco."  
  
"Your confidence n me is overwhelming, Professor. May I cut in?" Percy looked down his nose at the Snape as best as his smaller stature allowed.  
  
Severus sneered, an expression that suited his face far better than smiling. "Weasley. For once, I'm almost relieved to see you in one piece."  
  
"My honor won't allow for me to say the same. If you are finished manhandling my cousin, we should like to be off."  
  
"You should be so fortunate to have such a relative in reality, Weasley."  
  
"Percy, Severus, stop."  
  
"Daphne, I'm sorry you were forced to endure this man's company." He turned to Severus. "I believe she made her feelings known to you the first time you met."  
  
"And you demonstrated your cleverness and skill the first time you tried to follow her."  
  
Scully glared at both men, turned on her heel, and stalked off.  
  
Severus and Percy glared at each other, then stalked off in opposite directions; Severus to Malfoy and his cronies, and Percy after Scully.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Mulder had just settled himself down with "Magical Theory" when the phone rang. He reluctantly roused himself from the nest of pillows he'd created.  
  
"Mulder."  
  
"Mr. Mulder, I'm delighted to find you in your room."  
  
"Mr. Whi- Dumbledore?"  
  
"Please call me Albus. I would like to talk to you, if you aren't too preoccupied with your perplexing case."  
  
Mulder smiled. "Well, my dance card is pretty full for this evening, but I guess I could squeeze you in."  
  
"I'll be there presently."  
  
"See you soon." Mulder wondered how long it would take Albus to arrive, when his thoughts were interrupted by a loud pop.  
  
"I apologize for intruding into your free time, Mr. Mulder, but I hope you'll accept this small token of my gratitude for your cooperation." Albus handed him a dark brown bottle, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "This is a favourite of my students, as well as one of mine. It's a regional specialty."  
  
Mulder examined the flashing red label with a wry smile. "Butterbeer?"  
  
"Brewed in Hogsmeade, Scotland. The bottlers have incorporated a heating charm, so it will always be warm." Dumbledore opened his own bottle and allowed some of the steam to escape before taking a large mouthful. He sighed contentedly. "The liquid equivalent of a pair of hand-knit wool socks."  
  
Mulder took a hesitant sip, then closed his eyes as the warm, sweet liquid spread across his tongue. "How many bottles of this stuff do you have on you?"  
  
"As many as you like, Mr. Mulder, as many as you like. Now I'm curious about several things you mentioned in our last conversation. Exactly how did you come across your information on the failed Roswell invasion?"  
  
Mulder took a gulp of Butterbeer before answering. "That in itself is a long story, Albus, and involves many personal and messy details."  
  
"I am in no hurry, Mr. Mulder. Being officially deceased, I have all the time in the world."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Scully managed to locate another waiter and snatched another of the tasty drinks from his tray and took a rebellious swig. Best leave the men to their pissing match and find better things to do. She drained the drink and slipped out the door past a supercilious-looking maitre'd. As she took in her new surroundings, she wondered if Severus hadn't been right about strange additives in the drinks.  
  
Tiny lights swirled in the evening breeze and the shop windows that lined both sides of the alley were colorfully lit. Small groups of laughing wizards and witches wove in and out of the clusters of window-shoppers that loitered around the windows. It was far more crowded outside than it had been in the… what kind of place was it they had entered? She turned and studied the obscenely neoclassical façade. A placard proclaimed it The Du Bonnay Club. A smaller sign added, "members and guests only." Turning towards the alley, she wove through the crowd towards the nearest shop window, which had some exquisite garments displayed in the window . "Poinsettia's Period Pieces" had all manner of fashions from different historical eras. The Regency period was far better represented than most, and Scully assumed that was what was "in" now.  
  
Further down the alley was a luggage store ("Cassandra's Carpetbags hold all your belongings and your house, too!"), a store of imported potions ingredients, Gems Plus! by Giorgio, and an dimly lit side street called Akchew Alley, which appeared to be mostly secondhand and antique stores. While Scully was admiring an elaborate window display for a magical toyshop, she heard someone clear his throat from somewhere behind her. She turned to find an appropriately chagrined Percy.  
  
"Daphne, I'm so sorry about all this. This evening is not going as I had planned, and running into Snape made things even worse. Snape brings out the worst in me. He always did. He goads me until I behave as badly as he does. As for the Portrait Gallery and our grand debut, I think I'm going to kill McKendrick. I had no idea it was the entrance hall of the poshest club on Diagon Alley." His cheeks reddened. "I just wanted this to be a fabulous evening out, but it's been kind of a washout so far. The only remotely good thing is that Draco Malfoy will have no recollection of having seen you here."  
  
He looked so glum that Scully put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't say it's been a complete washout. Severus can really be quite charming, and he dances divinely."  
  
Percy stared at her in disbelief until he realized that she was joking. "How many of those buttergin and tonics did you have?"  
  
She wrinkled her nose at him. "One-point-two, thank you very much."  
  
"You know, rumour has it that they put a potion in it that makes you prone to spending large amounts of money in the stores."  
  
"I think I'll take my chances. Something tells me I might want to spend lots of money here even without chemical aid."  
  
"Then off to the goblins it is." They set off down Diagon Alley arm in arm.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Dumbledore's face was grave as Mulder finished his narrative. "Allow me to offer my condolences on the loss of your sister and father."  
  
Mulder waved his hand dismissively and opened a fourth bottle. "Dad and I were never really close, but Sam's the reason I went into the FBI. Sam's what made me start looking for answers. Sam's the reason I want to scream every time I look up into the sky at night." His head snapped toward Dumbledore. "Albus, is there any magic out there that could help me find her, or at least find out what happened to her?"  
  
Albus shook his head sadly. "Though magic is a great tool for making our lives easier, it cannot accomplish everything we wish. Magic cannot bring back the dead, nor can it show us truth. No magical person is wise or strong enough to divine truth unaffected by the individual's perceptions or desires. From a purely technical side, magical investigations are far more effective in determining what kinds of magic were used in foul play. When it comes to nonmagical causes of death, we run into even more problems than Muggle investigators. I wish I could help, Mr. Mulder, but there's nothing I can do."  
  
Mulder finally nodded. "It was worth asking, though, wasn't it?"  
  
"Yes Mr. Mulder, it was. But I have a question for you. I would like to hear more about the Consortium of which your father was part. I think Nicholas would be particularly interested in the abductions in Oregon that you mentioned. Would you mind terribly if I were to invite him to join this evening's tête-à-tête?"  
  
"Of course I don't mind! How often do I get the opportunity to rub elbows with two officially deceased wizards in one evening."  
  
"'Capital, my boy! If you will excuse me a moment." Dumbledore withdrew his own wand from his sleeve and murmured a few words. A large fire roared to life in the middle of Mulder's bed. Mulder bit back a yell of surprise when he noticed that nothing was actually burning. Dumbledore withdrew a hand from one of his many pockets and threw a pinch of powder into the fire. "Flamel" he said commandingly. The head of an old woman appeared in the middle of the fire. Her face was heavily lined, but her eyes sparkled with vitality. Upon seeing Albus, she broke into a wide grin.  
  
"Good evening, Albus. What can I do for you?"  
  
"Good evening to you, Pernelle. I was wondering if I might borrow your husband for a few hours. I know that tonight is your bridge night, but-"  
  
"It's all right, Albus. George and Martha had to cancel tonight anyway because their great great granddaughter is chasing for Puddlmere against the new team from Pontrhydfendigaid. Let me put Nicholas on."  
  
Her head abruptly disappeared, a smiling elderly gentleman's head replaced it. "Albus my boy, how wonderful to hear from you! I was thinking about you the other day because I heard the most wonderful new joke about a witch who goes into the mediwizard's office because her brother thinks he's a phoenix- "  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat reluctantly. "I look forward to hearing it over tea next week, Nicholas. You remember me telling you about Mr. Mulder?"  
  
Nicholas's head turned toward Mulder, who waved awkwardly in greeting.  
  
"So it's serious, then. Well, I'll be there in three shakes of a unicorn's tail." He winked at Albus. "Shall I bring anything to facilitate conversation? I've a nice bottle of 1758 Ogden's that I was saving for my 525th anniversary with Pernelle, but-" A shower of ash fell on Nicholas's head, and he spluttered a moment before shaking most of it from his silver hair. "Or I could just bring some of my special whomping willow bark tea."  
  
Albus chuckled. "I brought the bottomless crate of Butterbeer with me, so all I need you to bring is the Books of Ra, Seti's Journal, and your unabridged notes on the Alephi. The last seven volumes should be sufficient."  
  
Nicholas looked slightly hurt. "But I feel my best conjectural work is in the first three volumes, plus if you skip over the section on theoretical ancient magic in volume twelve, his understanding of modern charm usage and endowment of mundane objects could be severely compromised!"  
  
"I've already given him an overview of the first fifteen or so volumes, though I'm sure you can fill in any holes in person in less time than it would take to read them. Besides, you'll be wanting to update volumes nineteen through twenty-three. Mr. Mulder has some anecdotal experiences I think you'll find very interesting."  
  
If more of Nicholas had been visible, Mulder would have sworn he was leaning towards him eagerly. "You've seen them? What did they look like? Did they speak?"  
  
"Nicholas, I'm amazed that after 550 years of life you've no more patience than one of my first-year students," Dumbledore teased. "Get your materials together and come here as quickly as possible. We'll talk then."  
  
"I'll aim for a meter away from you. In the meantime, try not to stand in any closets. I had a dickens of a time trying to convince that wall in your office to release me."  
  
"A bientot, old friend."  
  
Nicholas's head disappeared from the fire, and with a flick of Dumbledore's wand, the fire was gone, too. Mulder smoothed the comforter on his bed. It wasn't even singed.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
With over fifty golden galleons burning a hole in her pocket; rather, purse; or rather, binoculars case, Scully was practically dragging Percy through the crowd gathered outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. Fortunately, there was no crowd around the wand shop. In fact, had Percy not pointed it out to her, she wouldn't have even known it was there, much less open. She could see a single candle burning through the glass in the door, but she saw no sign of a salesman or proprietor. A bell jangled merrily as Percy held the door open for her, and when as Scully's eyes had adjusted to the darkness she noticed a man with thick-lensed glasses standing in the corner.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, it's a delight to see you again. Eleven inches, cedar and heartstring from a venerable Ironbelly, if I recall correctly?"  
  
"That's correct, Mr. Olivander. May I present my American cousin, Daphne De Winter? Daphne is in need of a wand."  
  
Mr. Olivander peered at her owlishly. "An American Weasley. You studied at Salem, I'm sure. You had a Revere wand?"  
  
After a fraction of a second's hesitation, Scully nodded.  
  
"All of my wands all utilize wooden casings and either phoenix feather, dragon heartstring, or unicorn hair as a core for greater control of organic elements. Anyone used to a metal or combination wand may require an adjustment period, since my wands require, if I may say so, a more subtle touch. May I ask why you wish to purchase one of my wands when you already have a Revere?"  
  
Scully gave a small smile. "Cousin Percy has been explaining to me the differences between metallurgic and organic wands. I'm anxious to see if a wooden wand will make transfigurations less work-intensive. Besides, a wise professor of mine once told me that if the only tool you have in your toolbox is a hammer, all of your problems start to look like nails."  
  
Percy grinned behind his hand.  
  
Mr. Olivander regarded her a moment, then nodded. "I see. Well, you'll have to be measured." He snapped his fingers and a tape measure that had been lying on the counter wrapped itself snugly around Scully's arm. Then it slid up to her shoulder and coiled around her neck. Mr. Olivander frowned and clapped his hands loudly. The tape measure jumped, then slid down to her waist, shivering like a scolded puppy.  
  
"You'll have to excuse my measure, Miss De Winter. He's been particularly resistant to training, but he's so affectionate I haven't the heart to get rid of him." He disentangled the measure from Scully and began taking her measurements by hand. "Which is your wand arm?"  
  
"I'm right-handed."  
  
He busied himself with digging through a pile of boxes that were stacked neatly against the wall. "What kind of metal was your wand's exterior, Miss De Winter?"  
  
Time to fake. "Copper."  
  
He looked up from his pile of boxes. "Copper? How unusual. You must have a great deal of control to force a conductive element like copper into submission. Let's see… hardwood, naturally." He pulled out a box and handed it to her. "Ten and a quarter inches, phoenix and mahogany. Quite rigid. Give that a wave."  
  
She removed the rich brown wand from the box and closed her eyes. She felt its power humming below the surface like she had with Severus's wand, though it radiated with almost uncomfortable intensity. She gritted her teeth and pointed the wand at the tape measure that was playing with a quill on the counter. "Accio." The measure zipped into her left hand and wrapped itself tightly around her wrist.  
  
Olivander snatched the wand out of her hand and tutted disapprovingly as he unwound the tape measure. "I'm not sure how Revere wands are made to fit, but I don't need you to do a spell, just wave it a bit. You'll know when we find the right wand for you. Try this one, cocobolo and unicorn hair."  
  
Slightly embarrassed, she waved it obediently. Nothing happened. Olivander snatched it away and handed her another.  
  
"Koa and Shortsnout."  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Sitka spruce and phoenix."  
  
Nothing.  
  
Mr. Olivander sighed and looked alternatingly at Percy and Scully. "This may take a while. It's much more difficult to match an adult to a wand than it is to match a child and wand. No matter how promising or precocious the child, they are much simpler creatures than adults. A child often grows to suit the complexity and strength of their wand, while a wand must exactly fit the complexity and strength of an adult wizard or witch."  
  
"I'd like to stay with my cousin, Mr. Olivander. I don't mind waiting."  
  
Over the next fifteen minutes, Scully tried dozens of wands, including three ebony, two mahogany, ovangkols, walnuts, cherries, larches, and ironwoods, all to no avail. Scully was beginning to wonder whether she'd have to go through every single wand in the shop when Mr. Olivander let out a laugh of triumph.  
  
"How foolish of me! It's been so long since I fitted a total stranger that I nearly forgot I had a tool for just such situations." He went to the corner and pulled out an extremely dusty y-shaped branch. "Close your eyes and empty your mind. Let the yew pull you in a general direction. We'll go from there."  
  
Scully overcame the urge to roll her eyes at the divining rod and relaxed her mind. To her amazement, she felt a gentle tug upwards and to her right. When she began to walk in the direction of the pull, Mr. Olivander snatched it from her hands. Moving much more quickly than she expected of a man of so many years, he shinnied up a sliding ladder and grabbed an armful of boxes.  
  
"The Brazilian rosewoods!" he crowed. "Yours is a talent of great discrimination."  
  
Sure enough, the third wand she tried sent orange-red sparks dancing all around the room. Her body tingled pleasantly, and the wand felt like a natural extension of her right arm.  
  
"It's lovely," she exclaimed, handing it back to him. "I've never felt like this with any other wand."  
  
Mr. Olivander beamed. "Thank you, my dear. From a seasoned Revere-user, that compliment means a great deal to me." He examined the wand and polished it with a bit of flannel. "Ten and a half inches, rosewood and a heartstring from a particularly elusive female Chinese Fireball. That will be sixteen galleons, twelve sickles and three knuts." As he accepted payment and made her change, he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It's rather interesting."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, and I haven't sold a Fireball wand for almost thirty years. Part of the reason is the rarity of Fireball heartstring outside the Orient, but it is also because the intrinsic properties make them temperamental and strongly affected by the emotions of the wielder. Well, it's as I always say, the wand chooses the wizard." He handed the small box to Scully with a faint smile. "May you find plenty of jobs that require this tool. It will serve you well."  
  
Scully slipped the box into Mulder's binoculars case as best she could. "Thank you, Mr. Olivander. I rather suspect it will."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Nicholas Flamel took an impatient sip from his bottle of Butterbeer and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. "Nonsense, Albus! If the Magical community in the United States had been meddling with Muggle domestic law enforcement, it would have been spotted years ago by one of the International Confederacy of Wizards' inspection committees!"  
  
"A small enough group of people in selected positions of power could have hoodwinked the ICW. There are far too many precedents of just that occurring. Besides, how else do you explain their ability to selectively alter memory, as Mr. Mulder has described?"  
  
Mulder was in his element. "It's not just a matter of altered memory, it's also using alien technologies to control others. For at least the past fifteen years, the Consortium has been bargaining with extraterrestrials for these methods of control."  
  
Albus frowned. "I have to wonder what leverage the Muggles used to forge such an exchange."  
  
"Isn't it obvious, Albus?" Flamel's voice was soft. "They're deactivating or destroying the protection left by the Alephi- the first ones-" he clarified for Mulder's benefit.  
  
Albus's eyes flashed with frustration. "Why would they agree to such a thing? They and their petty advantages would be destroyed along with the rest of humanity! Unless they weren't given the real reasons for their actions."  
  
A new idea occurred to Mulder. "What if we were given technology because it helped locate the barrier generators?"  
  
Nicholas shook his head. "Muggles are unable to wield Magic or perform memory charms."  
  
"I think Mr. Mulder may be on to something. Perhaps the reward was not just pure technology but also information on the existence of Magic. I could name seven or eight American clans that are mercenary enough to sell magical services to Muggles in exchange for money or political position. I would also wager that the fifty or so years between the Roswell incident and the present was ample time for the attempted colonists to gather this information and use it to their best advantage."  
  
"I don't understand, Albus. How could the Consortium find the barrier generators when you Wizards don't even know where they are?"  
  
"I suspect the extraterrestrials have a much better idea of what they're looking for than we do, Mr. Mulder. After all, the only records we have of these objects are from only one early civilization. As you can read in volume thirteen of Nicholas's complete notes, or rather, as you could have read if Nicholas had brought volume thirteen-" Flamel stuck his tongue out at Dumbledore. "-we have an outline of the type of charms that went into the protective barrier, but we've never tried locating the generators. The risk to our planetary security would be too great."  
  
Mulder laughed harshly. "Well, don't you think now would be an excellent time to begin looking?"  
  
Dumbledore and Flamel exchanged glances. "I think you had best get home to Pernelle. Give her my regards. I will owl you in the morning."  
  
Nicholas bowed slightly to Mulder and Dumbledore. "This has been a most enlightening conversation. I look forward to sharing my notes with you both later." He waved his wand and reduced his books to the size of postage stamps and swept them into his pocket.  
  
He disapparated with a pop.  
  
Albus turned to Mulder. "You don't approve of keeping this a secret." It was not a question.  
  
Mulder shrugged. "I understand why you do."  
  
"But?"  
  
"But don't you think it would be advantageous for more people to have an idea of how to defend themselves if or when the invasion comes?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "You're right, it would be far more advantageous. However, you're making a very big assumption."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"That we have an idea of how to defend ourselves."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A/N: Whew! And I'm already a page into chapter 12. Vacation was lots of fun (I managed to survive downhill skiing, an attack dachshund, and a two-day blizzard with only a bruised knee to show for it!), even without internet access.. who knew? :D  
  
Ariana Deralte- I'm fixing the chapter squishiness as I type this! As for pairings, I'm not exactly sure what will show up. I do want to fit this seamlessly back into the X-Files canon eventually, so take from that what you will. I admit, I went into this with a "This IS going to be Scully/Snape," mindset, but in the course of writing this, I've found other relationships (romantic and platonic) that have just as much if not more emotional intensity. Besides, my Snape is still pretty prickly… but I think he'll wear down. Thanks again for reviewing!  
  
MusicalRose- I blame the grand entrance on my love of Austen, Wilde, and reading the 1920s Emily Post on Bartelby.com (where else can you find the difference between a ball and a cotillion?). More high society intrigue to come! I love the similarities between Rowling's world and Austen's (beautifully explored in the fic "Marrach," if you haven't read it), and I may go even further with the Mr. Darcy=Snape stuff, which was hinted at in this chapter.  
  
BlackWido13- Hee hee, the ubiquitous red thing. I think that's another cookie I'll have to write. Or maybe I'll write "The Secret Life of Cho Chang" as a companion piece. :D  
  
Indigo Zionia-Oh my! You're right! Prince of Thieves must have been lurking in my subconscious! You caught my "Rebecca" reference! pats Indigo proudly on the back Oh! If you're interested, the A&E Pride and Prejudice is currently less expensive to buy on DVD than VHS (by about 20 bucks!). I'm very glad you're enjoying the story, and as always, many thanks for reviewing. 


	12. Scherzando

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence… perhaps some canoodling later.  
  
Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter  
  
Spoilers: X-Files through season 5 (though there are a few little references to things that are revealed in later seasons… nothing too wicked), Harry Potter through Goblet of Fire.  
  
Disclaimer: Thus Chris Carter, still creating, keeps us waiting, keeps us waiting  
  
All his mental masturbating keeps us at confusion's door;  
  
And his eyes have all the seeming of George Lucas fever- dreaming,  
  
And the limelight o'er him streaming keeps him writing seasons more.  
  
Yet his "X-Files" seasons, even good ones from the days of yore;  
  
Shall be claimed by me- nevermore!  
  
Author's Note: My chapters are in the proper order and of proper number! Hurrah! Love given and questions answered in endnotes. I've included a list of the musical terms that I've exploited at the end of the endnotes.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Twelfth (or "The Chapter of Inadvertent Requests")  
  
Scully and Percy's first stop after the wand shop was Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, where Scully was fitted for a lovely navy blue robe that would be perfect for just about any occasion. The damage to her funds was far less than she had expected, although she knew the robes were nothing like those she'd seen in the window of Poinsettia's Period Pieces. Scully was pleased that Madame Malkin's tape measure was less high-strung than Mr. Olivander's. However, she flatly refused to let Madame Malkin transfigure her suit jacket into a cape, no matter how much the other woman wheedled. She knew she'd feel pretty silly sweeping into the Brisbin Institute the next day wearing a cloak over her sensible attire. She felt keenly disappointed by this thought, knowing that the incredible evening would be coming to an end. She hoped Mulder had managed to keep himself entertained with something other than the late night shows on the Discovery Channel. The robe would be finished at eleven; enough time to finish shopping and get some supper.  
  
As they strolled out into the crowded Alley once more, Scully noticed a large crowd gathered outside Flourish and Blotts, a bookstore Percy had pointed out to her on their circuitous walk to Gringott's.  
  
"What's going on over there?"  
  
"I assume there's an author book-signing. I haven't seen a crowd this large since Gilderoy Lockhart came to town." Percy addressed a flustered-looking lady whose flowered hat was flopping wildly as she jumped up and down to get a better view of the proceedings. "Excuse me madam, would you be so kind as to relate to me the cause of this particular fracas?"  
  
She looked mildly affronted at first, but broke into a giddy smile when she had deciphered his question. "Harry Potter is in Flourish and Blotts buying books like a regular person, bless his heart. Can you believe our luck?"  
  
Another lady with gray hair and a straw hat joined her. "Agnes, I just heard that he's actually looking through Kennilworthy Whisp's new book on modern seeking techniques, the dear thing."  
  
"Oooh, I'd buy any magazine with that picture on the cover! Harry Potter reading a book on seekers!"  
  
The two ladies tittered at one another and began enthusiastically elbowing their way closer to the store.  
  
Scully raised her eyebrows at Percy. "Pardon my ignorance, cousin, but who is Harry Potter?" Dumbledore had only just mentioned him.  
  
Percy looked scandalized. "Nobody told you about Harry Potter? I can't believe that any discussion of recent modern magical history omitted Harry's story."  
  
"We didn't really discuss any recent history."  
  
He shook his head. "This isn't the best place to go into it. If we ever get into the store, which is looking doubtful at this point, pick up a copy of "My Friend Harry" by Neville Longbottom. I think it's still somewhere on the bestseller list. I admit, it's a little on the mawkish side in places, but it's by far the most complete account of the student's efforts during the war. It's also a harrowing read. We who were at school with him never knew Longbottom had a book like that in him."  
  
Percy looked like he was about to continue, but a magically amplified voice boomed over the crowd. "YOUR ATTENTION EVERYONE! HARRY POTTER HAS LEFT THE STORE. I REPEAT, HARRY POTTER HAS LEFT FLOURISH AND BLOTTS."  
  
A disappointed groan rose from the crowd, but very few people actually left.  
  
"Maybe he forgot to get a receipt!" exclaimed a young girl, hopefully.  
  
An older gentleman with only one eyebrow squinted at the store suspiciously. "I got the feelin' deep in my bones that he's still in there." He paused dramatically. "Buyin' books in secret."  
  
One young man burst from the store waving what appeared to be a handful of instant photographs. "I got pictures of Harry!" he yelled. "Only ten galleons apiece. A lovely memento of the time you saw Harry Potter at Flourish and Blotts! Ten galleons! Do I have any takers?"  
  
Scully was a little disappointed that Percy wouldn't let her test out her new wand on the shameless photo seller, but the disappointment evaporated once they managed to muscle their way into the store. Wall-to-wall books on every magical subject she could imagine: it was heaven!  
  
With Percy's help, she quickly located the latest edition of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" in the student section for Mulder. But she soon found herself seated on a stool in the quiet History of Magic section skimming through a large stack of books, her quest for Harry Potter forgotten. Each book was more fascinating than the next. There were books on every type of magic; selected magic for specific tasks, current research, theoretical magic, even history of nonhuman magical societies. This one she took the time to skim, since she was quite curious how goblins ended up in charge of magical financial institutions. Several of the books on Muggle studies and history were unintentionally funny, and she made a mental note to ask Percy about the Muggle Relations department's role in the Ministry.  
  
As engaging as she found the books, it was impossible to focus on a single one for very long. A footnote about Goblin Rebellions in "An Overview of Inter-Species Relations" led her to a section in "A History of Magic" summarizing the 1563 peace accords between Wizards and Goblins. A reference to the part a famous Mediwitch had played in a key 1945 battle prompted her to consult "Advances in Modern Magical Medicine" for how Wizards treated inflammatory reactions. She was pleased to note Magical treatments for pain were decades ahead of their Muggle counterparts. While flipping through "Curse Cures!" Scully idly wondered if the cardiac regularity induced by a combination of adder's tongue and creeping toadflax would suppress the unpleasant side effects that occurred when fexofenadine and antibiotics were combined. The potential for hybrid Magical-Muggle treatments was more than she could fathom.  
  
Admittedly, it wasn't her field, but the during the previous pollen season her mother had suffered moderate respiratory distress when she couldn't take both Allegra and the antibiotic prescribed for a skin infection simultaneously. In layman's terms, she was incapacitated for three weeks; scratching, sneezing and wheezing miserably throughout the entire convalescence. It was either that or possibly send her heart into spasms. She shuddered at the memory of her self-reliant, nurturing mother's uncanny resemblance to a rabid wolverine when confined to her bed. It was the only time she had ever considered giving anyone cardiac arrhythmia as a show of mercy.  
  
Her mind turned an assortment of familiar chronic complaints that these books claimed could be cured by magical means; Mulder's color-blindness, her Aunt's arthritis, cousin Iphigenia's lumbago, her brother Bill's horrible temper.... She smiled, picturing herself force-feeding Bill Mellowing Mixture at the next family reunion. Perhaps it would be prudent to commit that recipe to memory. She'd seen it in "Potions for Common Ailments." Or was is from "Barely Legal Mood Altering Potions?" Drat! Where was the reference section?  
  
She became so engrossed in "Index Infusia" (and memorizing a simple bruise- healing balm recipe for the souvenir left by the airline drink cart), that she jumped when Percy tapped her on the shoulder and handed her a small bowl of… something.  
  
"We should probably find eat presently, since it's nearly ten. I got some ice cream from Fortescue's to hold us over until we can find something more substantial."  
  
Ten o'clock? Her cheeks reddened. She's been in Flourish and Blotts for nearly two hours. Talk about being a cheap date. Just lead her to a bookstore. Scully reluctantly took the ice cream, noting the rather unusual color, or lack thereof. "Aren't you afraid it'll spoil our supper?"  
  
"Consider it an apéritif. I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of choosing a flavor for you." He took a bite from his own (it looked like chocolate).  
  
She took an experimental nibble from the translucent mass in her bowl. Odd, it tasted like oranges. Oranges and something else. Whatever it was, it was definitely tasty. "What is this?"  
  
"Cointreau. I almost got you a sidecar sundae, but they were out of fresh lemon. I can't abide by bottled lemon in an ice cream, so I brought the unadorned Cointreau instead. Do you like it?"  
  
Scully smiled at this. Her brother Charlie had once left a family gathering to procure a fresh lemon for his drink. "Very much so, thank you. I take it that yours is not the plain chocolate it appears to be?"  
  
Percy jabbed his finger in the air like a game show host. "Ten points to the American De Winters. It's a grasshopper. It's one of the few mixed drinks they make as a single ice cream flavor. Would you care to try?"  
  
"After such a generous dollop of points to my family, how could I refuse?" She opened her mouth to accommodate the rather large spoonful of ice cream Percy held out for her with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eye. Having slid her lip across the bowl of the spoon to dislodge as much of the sweet chocolate and mint as her mouth could hold, her eyes widened. Percy's ice cream was definitely more alcoholic than hers. "It has a bit of a kick, doesn't it?"  
  
"I had to catch up with your one-point-two buttergins and tonic, after all."  
  
"Would you care for a bite of mine? I don't think I can finish it without my stomach protesting the dearth of proper food."  
  
"Wizard ice cream doesn't melt as quickly as Muggle ice cream, so you may save it for later, if you wish. But I couldn't think of declining your generous offer."  
  
Wishing to pay him back for his over-large spoonful, Scully scooped up as much ice cream as gravity would allow her to fit on a single spoon. She set the rest of the bowl down on a bookshelf and held her hand protectively underneath the spoon so as to catch any that decided to fall. "Open wide, cousin."  
  
Open wide he did, but it still wasn't enough. Ice cream smeared the edges of Percy's mouth, and another large glob fell into Scully's waiting hand. She expertly stifled the giggle that she felt rising in her breast. "Well Percy, I hope you remembered to bring a serviette or two." She turned to deposit the ice cream, which was soft but not yet melting in her hand, into her own bowl. He caught her wrist.  
  
"Allow me." He brought her hand to his lips.  
  
Having her hand kissed, though not a frequent occurrence, was not something that normally made Scully's breath catch in her throat. Quite the contrary. Normally she took umbrage at the type of man who would kiss her hand instead of shaking it. Often it was a misguided, local officer who had never interacted with a woman in a work environment, much less a young, attractive woman. Or else an arrogant rural investigator who used the action to remind her of her "place," both as an outside investigator and a woman. It made her seethe. This kiss, however, did not make her seethe in the least. She mentally ticked off the reasons it was different: it was on her palm instead of the back of the hand. It was from someone who she knew respected her. Someone whose company she enjoyed. It wasn't a calculated gesture intended for any other purpose other than getting the ice cream off her hand. But the cold of the ice cream contrasted deliciously with heat from his lips -God! Was that his tongue? She hardly had time to process that tidbit of information before Percy released her hand and cleared his throat.  
  
"We'd better get these ice creams out of the store before we dribble on something. I mean, so we don't get ice cream on the books. Of course, most of the books are magically stain-protected…." He trailed off, red-faced.  
  
Scully quickly gathered the three books she allowed herself (not including Mulder's, of course) and made her way to the main counter. Next to the counter was a large display of books featuring a shyly smiling young man with a nasty-looking scar on his forehead. Bold print proclaimed it "My Friend Harry." Justifying it as a business expense, she added it to her pile of books. The sharp-eyed clerk behind the counter took inventory of her purchases, shaking his head slightly at "My Friend Harry."  
  
"Did you have trouble finding anything today, ma'am?"  
  
"No, although I had difficulty extricating myself from the History of Magic section."  
  
He smiled. "It does rather resemble a literary quagmire, doesn't it? That'll be eighteen, six and four."  
  
She dug through her bag for correct change. "I take it that 'My Friend Harry' isn't at the top of your favorites list."  
  
"It's not that I didn't enjoy the book. Frankly, I had no idea that Longbottom had a book like this in him. But I wonder if it would have garnered as much attention if Longbottom hadn't died."  
  
Oh. Scully wasn't aware that it was posthumously published. "Were you at school with them?"  
  
"Same year, different house. I was in Ravenclaw." He said the house name as if it should have some special significance.  
  
She settled for an ambiguous response. "I see."  
  
Percy chose this moment to save her from a potentially awkward situation. "All ready to go, Daphne?"  
  
"Yes, thank you, cousin."  
  
The clerk looked appraisingly at the two of them, then smiled. "A Weasley. The hair should have tipped me off."  
  
"Good to see you, Boot. I take it you're no longer in Magical Games and Sports?"  
  
"No, I left last month. I'm working on a degree at Tregaron, and the Ministry couldn't take me part-time."  
  
"Jolly good, Boot. Tregaron is a fine school."  
  
"So you're showing your cousin the sights? You've stopped by Fred and George's next door, I'm sure."  
  
"Er, not yet. Well, it was good to see you, Boot. Best of luck, and all that." Ignoring Scully's probing look, Percy hurried her out of the store.  
  
She turned to him when they were across the street. "What was that all about?"  
  
"What was what all about?"  
  
"The next door business." She looked behind her. Flourish and Blotts was flanked by a pet store of some kind and store whose identity was proclaimed by a sign containing three interlinked red Ws. There were nearly as many people clustering around its windows as there had been around Flourish and Blotts during the Harry Potter sighting. "Percy, what's the store with the Ws?"  
  
"Just a joke store," he said in a falsely airy tone. "I much prefer Gambol and Japes down the street. They sell much more attractive nose-biting teacups. But I can't imagine you'd be much interested in a place like-"  
  
Before he could finish his sentence, a red haired someone slammed into him and enveloped him in a bone-crushing bear hug.  
  
Percy sighed as best as he could without being able to inhale. "Hullo, George."  
  
"Perce, you great sod, when was the last time you came to visit us? Even Mum complains that you spend too much time working for that old-" he cut off abruptly when he noticed Scully. "Well, well, well, Percival Alexander, what have we here? Could it be a DATE?" He released Percy and made a deep bow to Scully. "Mysterious lady, whoever you are, I humbly thank you and offer to kiss your ten tiny toes. You've just won me twenty galleons." He tore off into the crowd.  
  
Percy looked miserably at Scully. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. If we don't take care of this now I'll never live it down. Come on." He fixed his glasses that had been knocked askew by George's exuberant greeting, and trudged toward the store. When they reached the door, Percy whispered in her ear with sudden intensity. "Don't eat or drink anything they give you, don't open anything that's closed, and follow my lead. George is the one with the scar on his right earlobe."  
  
Scully soon saw the reason for Percy's last statement when two identical faces grinned greedily at them as the entered the crowded store. Before she had a chance to wonder at how such pleasant faces as the twins' could so closely resemble the Gringott's goblins', she was distracted by several loud pops. A giant canary, a confused-looking gorilla, and a lady whose skin had gone a fantastic shade of purple were clustered around a tray filled with sumptuous looking sweets labeled "Free Samples." Everyone in the store burst into laughter.  
  
Scully raised her eyebrows at Percy. "Is this a common occurrence?"  
  
"They carry traditional wizarding pranks, but their business is built on trick candies and cookies. They've also added a selection of 'adult' humor in the back room, which has done very well."  
  
George hollered over the din. "All of our improved Transfiguration Treat line can now be calibrated by the joker to last from one to forty-five minutes!"  
  
His brother added, "Eggplant Surprise, the newest addition to our Rainbow Raisinettes can be purchased alone or in assortment packages of seven colors!"  
  
After the announcement, George gestured for Percy and Scully to come up to the counter and elbowed his brother. "What did I tell you, Fred? Does it or does it not seem to you that our beloved brother is on a date?"  
  
Fred gave Percy an anguished look. "Say it ain't so, Perce."  
  
"It ain't – I mean, isn't so. Miss De Winter is new in town and I'm showing her around the Alley, that's all."  
  
George gave Scully a conspiratorial wink. "Now don't let him say that to get out of buying you dinner."  
  
Fred looked suspiciously at his elder brother. "How did you meet?"  
  
"She's a new division head at the Ministry."  
  
George's face fell and Fred laughed aloud. "Sorry George, it looks like you're out of luck."  
  
"For tonight, anyway. Well, Perce, since you didn't win me twenty Galleons tonight, the least you can do is be a sport and try one of our new products."  
  
Percy's eyebrows shot up. "Absolutely not! This is a professional outing and I refuse to do anything that would-"  
  
"We know that. We promise nothing horrible will happen. Don't you trust us?" Fred had already gone to the "Free Samples" tray and selected a milk chocolate morsel decorated with a marzipan lemon. He held it tantalizingly in front of Percy's face.  
  
"No."  
  
Both twins put their right hands over their hearts. "We solemnly swear that this delectable morsel will not transform you physically or mentally, and may quite possibly give this lovely lady a higher opinion of you." George murmured something about liking poetry that Scully couldn't quite hear.  
  
A small crowd had gathered around to watch.  
  
"I said no."  
  
"Come on then, let's see what it does!" The purple lady was fading to her original color. A murmur of assent rose from the watchers, and the rest of the people in the store looked over to see what was going on.  
  
"Come on, Percy old pal. It even tastes good."  
  
Percy was not convinced. "You promise that this thing will not impede my ability to converse intelligibly, change my appearance, or have any delayed effect producing either of the aforementioned effects?"  
  
"We promise."  
  
"Eat the blasted thing! You've had more of a guarantee than anyone else who tries the 'Free Samples' tray. What's your problem?" The former gorilla hadn't lost all the hair on his arms, though his face was nearly back to normal. Voices from the back chorused their agreement.  
  
Scully felt a pang of sympathy for Percy, who looked even more ill than he had at the top of the grand staircase in the Du Bonnay Club. Whatever happened, she promised herself that she wouldn't laugh at him.  
  
He popped the sweet into his mouth and braced himself for whatever was to happen. Nothing did. He cautiously opened an eye, then both. He glanced at his reflection in the glass door behind the register and sighed in relief. Fred and George were obviously stifling laughter.  
  
Fred recovered first. "Told you nothing horrible would happen, Percy!"  
  
"Shame on you for not trusting your own brothers," George added.  
  
Percy smiled at Scully.  
  
"My twin brothers Georgie and Fred  
  
Are good fellows, though let it be said  
  
That pranks done in haste  
  
Are in very poor taste.  
  
If they played one on me, they'd be dead."  
  
His eyes widened in horror and he slapped a hand over his mouth.  
  
Uproarious laughter came from all sides. Fred and George were in their element.  
  
"Limerick Lemons, new this week at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" shouted George.  
  
"And for more mature gatherings, try Lubricious Limerick Lemons, whose resultant limericks all begin with 'There once was a man from Nantucket!'" Fred gestured toward the small door that apparently led into the back room.  
  
Percy was glaring daggers at his brothers, who were ringing up box after box of the Lemon candies. George finally noticed.  
  
"Smile, Perce. When was the last time you impressed a lady with your literary prowess?"  
  
"This is so much tamer than the Pun Peppermint prototypes we gave Bill. He had to spend the week in his room because nobody could stand all the horrible jokes. Of course, our skills have improved significantly since then." Fred clarified for Scully.  
  
"The limerick's callous and crude,  
  
and often distressingly lewd;  
  
They're not worth the writing  
  
Or even reciting.  
  
Except by the vulgar and rude."  
  
Percy spat the last line like it tasted bad. He pursed his lips together and drew a small notebook and quill from his pocket and wrote, i How long until this wears off? /i  
  
"An hour or two."  
  
Percy's face couldn't have been a darker shade of purple if he'd eaten a bag of Eggplant Surprises.  
  
"Really, Percy, it's not like they can throw you out of a restaurant for speaking in limericks. You'll be able to communicate anything you need to, it'll just be in rhyming meter. You must appreciate the delicate process it took to produce lines than scanned."  
  
Percy had calmed himself considerably, but shook his head angrily as if to say something along the lines of "Bugger your delicate process."  
  
George looked hurt. "It's philistine reactions like that that almost make it more bother than it's worth to play pranks on you."  
  
"Almost," Fred added.  
  
"Almost, " George agreed.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Dinner would have been far more enjoyable if Percy had just reconciled himself to speaking in limericks instead of communicating by quill and parchment. The restaurant was intimate, and the smells that emanated from the kitchen area made her mouth water. After ordering for both, Scully reminded Percy to tell her more about the recent conflict. Percy nodded and began scribbling furiously on his notepad. She privately thought that hearing about war in rhyme would be far preferable to reading it in hurried script. As it was, the "conversation" was agonizingly slow, and she finally insisted that they talk about something else. She assured him that she'd look through "My Friend Harry" and the book on magical social policy that she'd purchased.  
  
He shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to address what had prompted her to abandon the previous discussion. He wrote. i So, tell me about yourself. /i  
  
Such an innocent question. When was the last time anyone had asked? Scully was a little uncomfortable sharing her life story at first, though Percy was an excellent listener. She talked about a few of her stranger cases with the FBI, anecdotes about her partner, and a bit about her family. She left out most of the grisly details; her sister's death, her experiences with cancer, and shadowy international conspiracies.  
  
When the food arrived, Scully was surprised to see that the waiter brought three plates.  
  
"Your brother owled his us his order and asked that we tell you he'll be joining you presently," he explained before disappearing into the kitchen again.  
  
"Your brother?" Scully raised her eyebrows at Percy. "You didn't invite Fred and George to join us?"  
  
He shook his head vehemently.  
  
"Then who-"  
  
"I hope you both realize the trouble I went through to join you."  
  
They both spun to look at the sour-faced young man who stood before them. His bright red hair wanted trimming and he was dressed entirely in black.  
  
Astonished, Percy spoke without thinking.  
  
"Ron what are you doing here?  
  
If you get caught here I fear  
  
You'll soon be explaining  
  
Why you left your training  
  
And then be tossed out on your ear."  
  
"As touching as I find your rhyming display of filial devotion, it should be patently obvious to you, Weasley, that I am merely disguised as your overgrown brother."  
  
The color drained from Percy's face as he realized to whom he had just revealed his odd affliction.  
  
Scully was unfazed. After goblin bank tellers and transfiguration treats, very little, even Severus Snape looking like a seventeen-year old boy, surprised her. "Severus, how good of you to join us. Won't you sit down? Are you well? I daresay you've never looked better."  
  
Percy sniggered behind his hand.  
  
The young man's ears turned red and he ground his teeth into a ghastly semblance of a smile. "I see you have embraced your role as a Weasley, Miss De Winter, judging by the battered binoculars case you are using as a purse."  
  
Percy glared at him, but remained silent. Scully was far less bothered by the insult than he was. Besides, as far as sneers from Severus went, this one seemed half-hearted. Snape couldn't be embarrassed, could he? She had promised herself not to laugh at Percy's rhyming. The least she could do for Severus was not tease him about his current appearance. Or his regular appearance, for that matter. Ok. Diplomacy.  
  
"To what do we owe the honor of your presence this evening, Severus?"  
  
Severus sat down awkwardly. "Albus instructed me to take inventory of all the magical items and accessories you've purchased this evening as well as the people you've talked to while posing as Percy's cousin."  
  
"And you couldn't have done this at another time?"  
  
Severus shrugged. "I quickly tired of Lucius's company. I devote enough of my time at the Brisbin Institute kowtowing to him. There's no reason I should waste my leisure time doing the same. Besides, I assumed that it was best to speak to you now, before you forget any significant details."  
  
"Why the elaborate disguise?"  
  
"You saw how closely we were watched at the Du Bonnay Club. The sight of Severus Snape exchanging pleasantries with one or more Weasleys in any setting is suspicious. Alas, one of the more unfortunate aspects of your cover story."  
  
Percy snorted again, and Severus rounded on him.  
  
"You're mercifully silent tonight, Weasley." His gaze flicked to Scully. "Cat got your tongue?"  
  
"We had a run-in with Percy's twin brothers in their joke shop."  
  
Severus smiled nastily at Percy. "So they succeeded in making the limerick sweet, as well as the more difficult task of convincing you to eat it. I can't say I'm surprised. There are few people more tenacious than your brothers in pursuit of the perfect prank. I don't always admire their methods, but I can't argue with their results."  
  
Percy looked torn between annoyance and shock that his brothers had been on the receiving end of a compliment from Snape. i How did you know about the limerick sweet? Fred and George claimed it was new. /i  
  
"You don't honestly think they do all of their own potions research, do you? As if those two would have ever thought to try ground Blarney Stone as a substrate for the yak hair."  
  
Percy goggled at Snape. Scully saw this as an excellent opportunity to change the subject.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Author's Notes: The Limerick Lemons are dedicated to my beta, Crystal "Top o' the mornin': James Joyce" Grapher and is at least two parts Tom Stoppard. Thanks also to my other part-time beta, Jaffe, who I sucked into this chapter with promises of limericks.  
  
APPENDIX A: Definitions of Musical Terms (in order of appearance)  
  
First Inversion: A chord with the third of the triad in the bass or lowest voice. If "do, mi, sol" is the normal triad, "mi, sol, do" is the first inversion. (Mundungus42)  
  
Variation on a Theme: A transformation of a theme by means of harmonic, rhythmic or melodic changes. Often used by composers as homage to another composer or work (i.e. Rachmaninov's famous 18th Variation on a Theme by Paganini). (Chappell)  
  
Leitmotif: (Ger.). 'Leading motif': a clearly defined theme or musical idea, representing or symbolizing a person, object, idea etc, which returns in its original or an altered  
  
form at appropriate points in a dramatic (mainly operatic) work. The term was coined by FW Jähns in 1871, but the device itself has a long ancestry. Weber first appreciated its significance for Romantic opera, and Wagner elevated it to a position of paramount importance as a means of both symphonic development and dramatic allusion. (Grove)  
  
Recapitulation: In sonata form, a return of the initial section (theme) of a movement. (Chappell)  
  
A Tempo: Return to the original speed after a ritard (denoted slowing of tempo). When I first encountered this term (at age 7), I stuck a sign that said "a Tempo" on my brother. I got clobbered for that one. I'm not sure if he objected more to me calling him a ritard or trying to cancel him. (Mundungus42)  
  
Lento: Tempo marking which means "very slow." (Halifax)  
  
Allegretto: Tempo marking which means light and cheerful, but not as fast as allegro (Halifax)  
  
Stringendo: To increase intensity by increasing tempo. (Halifax)  
  
Gesamtkunstwerk: Described by Richard Wagner in 1849, literally the "total artwork;" a fusion of all "high" art forms as embraced by the Ancient Greeks. (Herausforderung)  
  
Pizzicato: Italian for "pinched." A direction in music for stringed instruments to play the notes by plucking the strings instead of using a bow. (Schirmer)  
  
Klangfarbenmelodie: (Ger.) A term coined by composer Arnold Schoenberg to describe a style of composition that employs several different kinds of tone colors to a single pitch or to multiple pitches. This is achieved by distributing the pitch or melody among several different instruments. (Schoenberg)  
  
APPENDIX B: Love to All  
  
BlackWido13: Ok, the "red thing" has been set in my sights. I'll hurry up and finish C&W so I can get started :D Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad I wasn't the only person disappointed with most of the HP/XF stuff out there.  
  
Ryven: Sixty points to your house for various guesses/observations/questions in your review. If I left out anything you requested, it's because I plan on sticking it in a later chapter. How did you DO that?? Many thanks, as always, for your review!  
  
Ozma: (falls on floor laughing) I used the couple "George and Martha" because it turns up everywhere… "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," the "George and Martha" children's stories, etc. But I hadn't even though of our first first couple! I have to bring them back (or at least mention them later)! As for how Scully handles Snape, I love writing every interaction between the two. Snape reminds me of a theatre history prof I had in college.. horribly prickly, doesn't like many people, ridiculed by students and faculty who have been on receiving end of prickliness. But underneath, a highly sensitive person who is often quite saddened by what people are capable of doing to one another. He had a poster of Miss Piggy in his office, for goodness sakes! But I digress (as usual). I'm really glad you enjoyed CH10, and I hope you like this 'un, too! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Indarae: Since most of the musical terms were kind of randomly chosen as chapter titles (I haven't even thought of one for this chapter yet), I've been pretty pleased to see how each chapter title kind of oddly fits at least one aspect of its subsequent chapter. I'm running out of weird German musical terms and may have to start with Greek or German theatre terms (ekkyklema...ooooh….). Fortunately, there are a gazillion (exact number) Italian interpretation markings that I could use (or invent), but I kind of like the obscure German ones.  
  
Eigwayne: RE:Snape- Yes! I think fics lose verisimilitude (if one can use that term to describe fantasy :D) if Snape has two (or more) discrete personalities. I don't think the prickly part is a front. That's part of who he is. Snape is Moliere's misanthrope;.the one who says everything we're dying to say to other people but can't. He's an utter bastard, yet we all love him. Rats! I couldn't fit into this chapter how the Fireball wand is important, but yes, it will come back. Can't sneak anything by you, can I? ;)  
  
Bonny913: I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Cool, you're my first request for chapter updates! I will do so joyously. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Ariana Deralte: I've been trying to sneak Snape into more scenes, partially because he's one of my canon favorites, and partially because he's such fun to write. I've never used a dowsing rod myself, but I've often found myself inexplicably drawn to water... usually because I'm being thrown in by my older brother. Ooh, I ever get my hands on a neverending crate of Butterbeer, you're the first one I'll call over. So far, I've kind of been pulling the musical term chapter titles from my vast stores of useless knowledge accrued over 4 years of college and 5 years of dating a music theorist. I'll be including definitions in later chapters… of course, this means I have to find semi-cogent explanations for them, too. :D 


	13. Tenuto

Title: Cloak and Wand

Author: Mundungus42

Email: Self-imposed PG13

Category: Harry Potter/X-Files Crossover

Spoilers: X-Files up to but not including the movie (seasons 1-5), Harry Potter through Goblet of Fire.

Disclaimer: The phrase "I own neither Harry Potter nor the X-Files" seems insufficient, somehow. Perhaps if I added a nice bed of marigolds…

Last Chapter's Title Definition:

Scherzando- A style marking which means to play in a light, whimsical manner.

Author's Note: I'm making up for posting a day late by making this chapter three times the length of my average chapter. Ideas for "My Friend Harry" have temporarily taken over my brain and won't leave me alone, so I'm taking a brief hiatus from the current plot and giving y'all (and Scully) Current Magical History 101. Yes, I know I didn't want to write about the Big Three. However, as several of you astutely pointed out, it is impossible to avoid them completely. Love given in the endnotes, please don't hate me for hijacking certain well-loved memoirs.

Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Thirteenth

It took very little time for Scully to relate the short version of the evening's activities to Snape, which allowed all three to enjoy their excellent entrees with relatively few verbal skirmishes. She doubted Percy and Severus would have made it through the meal had both men not been subdued by their own embarrassment at their chemically-altered states. Snape, though taciturn, was not his normal vitriolic self, mostly because it would appear suspicious for two Weasley brothers to break into fisticuffs over dinner. Scully had to cover a laugh by coughing in her napkin the first time Severus' signature sneer appeared on the frank countenance of Percy's younger brother. For his own part, Percy learned to ignore Snape's regular insults after spewing forth a particularly colorful limerick that left him blushing and Snape snorting with laughter. Fortunately, "You kiss our mother with that mouth?" was Snape's only response.

By the time dessert menus were passed around, Scully had negotiated a fragile détente between Percy and Severus. She hadn't played "good cop" to Mulder's "bad cop" for all those years for nothing. Her master stroke, if she did say so herself, was to ask Snape when Fred and George had first come to him for help with their joke business. As with most people, Snape enjoyed talking about his successes. He also enjoyed shocking Percy.

Severus took a sip from his glass of port and sighed with relish. "I remember the first night those two came to me for help. It was over Christmas holidays and they'd entertained us all by enchanting your Head Boy badge to read 'Bighead Boy.' They propositioned me to look at their recipe for sweets that made one's tongue grow to the size of a Burmese python. I was tempted to refuse, but thought better of it. They would have suffocated their test subjects if they'd used the formula they presented me. From then on, all of their recipes went through me for approval. Once their potions skills caught up with their imaginations, they consulted me for more subtle touches, like making their trick sweets look and taste like normal sweets. The fact that they tested them on members of their own house and family was an added bonus."

Percy smiled in spite of himself. _Mum would kill you if she knew you were encouraging them. She's still angry they didn't go into research. _

Snape shifted in his seat. "I have no desire to be on the receiving end of your mother's wrath. Even though she had graduated before my years at Hogwarts, I was regaled with Molly MacDermott stories until my final year. To this day, they say she's the only person of whom Dumbledore is afraid. I'm frankly amazed that you and your siblings survived infancy."

I wish I'd known you were afraid of mum while I was still in school. Perhaps I would have written home more often.

"I suppose in order to assure your discretion on the matter I must be civil to your sister once school begins?"

To Scully's satisfaction, Percy did not press his advantage. _She's a big girl. She doesn't need me looking out for her. _

Severus regarded Percy for a moment, then shrugged. "Forgive our rudeness for monopolizing the conversation, Miss De Winter. On to pleasanter topics. May I see your new wand?"

"Of course." She handed Severus the box, which he opened. He examined the wand against its bed of cotton, but did not touch it.

"Rosewood?"

She nodded.

"That is satisfactory. I'm sure Olivander was so pleased to be a wandmaking ambassador to an American that he didn't ask too many questions."

Scully smiled. "It turns out that the most famous American wandmaker was also a Muggle Revolutionary War hero."

"Revere's cauldrons are not unknown in European potions circles, but they are frightfully expensive to import. Of course, there are ways around everything."

Percy was scribbling furiously._ Unscrupulous wizards who try to get around import tariffs often end up losing their potions when the bottoms melt out of their counterfeit Revere cauldrons. _

Snape's ears were tinged with pink. "When did you get to be an expert on cauldron bottoms, Weasley?"

Percy shrugged. _All I did my first year at the Ministry was file reports made against shoddy cauldrons. My recommendations for regulating cauldron bottom thickness for domestic and imported cauldrons even made it into the bill Mr. Crouch submitted. _

"That sounds frightfully dull."

It was, but I am certain I'll never mistake a brand name for good craftsmanship.

Severus cleared his throat. He turned to Scully and gestured to her wand, which was still in the box in front of him. "May I?"

"Of course."

He lifted the wand with his index finger and thumb and held it close to his face for examination. Having looked at it from all angles, he rested the handle against his palm and started to flick it, but he stayed his hand suddenly. A blank look shut over his features, and he quickly returned it to the box and shoved it across the table to Scully. "If Olivander sold you this wand, I'm sure it will serve you well."

Percy gave the briefest of questioning glances at Severus, which Severus avoided by pulling a bright orange pill from his pocket and swallowing with a large swig from his water glass.

"Did dinner disagree with you, Severus?"

He dabbed his lips with his napkin, a graceful action that looked odd with his gangly, adolescent body. "No. It is merely to make sure that my current state of Weasley does not begin to fade anytime soon."

_There are polyjuice pills now? _

"Of my own design. They greatly improve the experience of taking the hourly dosage. Many rely on other means of impersonating others simply because they lack the stomach to ingest the potion every hour. Naturally, I've not made them available to the Magical community at large."

Index Infusia listed polyjuice potion and boomslang skin, its primary active ingredient, as heavily controlled substances partially for their confusion-causing capability and partially because misbrewed or misused polyjuice had particularly nasty and lingering side effects. As impressive as the results were, Scully preferred Muggle methods of disguise. She noticed that Snape was scowling across the room at a man who was blithely chatting up his waitress, who appeared none to pleased about it.

"Someone you know?"

"It's that idiot McKendrick. He hangs around the Du Bonnay Club on weekends, and I'm never quite sure who dislikes him more, the men he tries to impress with his exaggerated exploits or their wives."

At the mention of the man's name, Percy went pale.

Snape glanced at Percy, then stared at McKendrick who appeared to notice them for the first time. Snape groaned. "Weasley, you don't mean-"

"Percy old thing, delighted to see you, just delighted!" McKendrick slapped him boisterously on the back, causing Percy to knock over his water glass. "What did you think of the Club, eh lad?" McKendrick continued, oblivious to the water that was now dripping into Percy's lap. "Did I fix you up, or did I fix you up?" He laughed heartily at his own turn of phrase, and stared at Scully's chest. "Well well well, what have we here? Is this the American cousin you wanted to impress so much? Well I can see why. You're not – er - _very_ related to her, are you? Well, if so, then I suppose she's fair game, eh?" He shook Percy's shoulder.

Scully held out a hand with a mild expression of distaste. "Daphne De Winter, Mr.-?"

"McKendrick, Alphonse McKendrick at your service." He took Scully's hand and kissed it with entirely too much saliva and suction. "Are you in London long?" He didn't wait for a response. "Because I can show you all the nicest places and intimate settings far better than Perce here. Besides, Perce is all work and no play. I can't remember the last time he asked for a Friday afternoon off before now. Me, on the other hand-" He finally noticed Percy's silence. "Say, what's the matter with him? Most times he'd be lecturing me on the virtues of hard work by now."

Scully extricated her hand none-too delicately from McKendrick's damp grip. "My cousin is unwell and has lost his voice, Mr. McKendrick."

"That's too bad. I'd be happy to give you a ride home and maybe come up for some coffee and tell you more about England if Perce would rather go home."

"That's okay, Mr. McKendrick, I'm taking care of Daph and Perce tonight."

McKendrick jumped. He probably hadn't even noticed the third person seated at the table. Scully and Percy were better composed, but disbelief was plainly written on their faces. Severus sounded so… cordial. McKendrick cleared his throat. "Oh, hi there, son. Say, aren't you the big Chudley fan?"

"Yes sir, though Auror training doesn't leave many open weekends to go to games." Severus managed to look crestfallen, but brightened. "But I managed to get the weekend of the championships off, just in case. I think they really could go all the way this year."

McKendrick smiled patronizingly and patted him on the head. "Well you're the kind of fan I'll bet the Cannons wish they had more of."

"Just wait 'til the championships! They'll show all those fair-weather fans. I reckon you'll be seeing a lot more black and orange-clad quidditch fans in the future, sir. Who do you favor this year?"

While Snape and McKendrick rattled on about sport, Percy desperately tried to catch the waiter's eye. Finally, the check appeared on a dry spot near Percy's elbow.

Scully jumped in on the quidditch discussion. "Well, Mr. McKendrick, it's been quite an experience meeting you."

He didn't notice the dismissal. "So Perce, how many months have you been saving to pay for this night out? I know what it's like trying to make ends meet on an immigration officer's salary. Or perhaps I should say," he winked roguishly at Scully, "I know how it would have been if I didn't have my family's fortune to sustain me before I got promoted. Speaking of which, have you had any problem with that UUW you've been tailing?"

It took Scully a moment to realize that McKendrick was referring to her. Percy shook his head in the negative.

"Such a shame. When I was out pounding the cobblestones I got all sorts of exciting work. It's just your rotten luck that you got stuck with a nice, oblivious, even-tempered UUW. Back in the eighties when all that USSR nonsense was happening, that's when all the _real_ exciting things were happening. Fiery Russian tempers, gallons of vodka, unstable economy, it was loads of fun for us. Not a week would go by when there wasn't some kind of incident in the Russian neighborhoods. A UUW accidentally turning her Muggle husband into a squirrel, that kind of thing. Those were the days, I tell you!"

"Gee, that's really great, Mr. McKendrick," Severus piped up. "I hope when I'm an Auror we have a great socio-political upheaval. Being an Auror during peacetime would be dead boring."

Severus's tone was lost on McKendrick, who patted him on the head again. "Good lad. Well, Percy, please bring your delightful cousin in to the Ministry some time. If you like, you can show her my office so she can see how well the Ministry treats its upper echelons." He looked across the room and noticed his waitress trying to clear his table before he returned. He wiped his hands on his trousers and licked his lips. "Well, duty calls, eh Perce?" He nudged Percy with his elbow. Fortunately there were no more things around Percy to spill " I look forward to reading more of your reports on Monday. Oh Griselda, my little chickadee!" he sang out. "I wasn't finished with my white zinfandel!"

Percy slumped dramatically in his chair when it became clear that McKendrick was otherwise entertained. Scully shot the waitress a sympathetic look, and turned to Severus.

"'Gee?' 'Dead boring?' Severus, really!"

"As you have not had the misfortune to meet Ronald Weasley, I ask you to suspend judgment on the verisimilitude of my performance, Miss De Winter."

Percy was scribbling again. The novelty of writing his end of the conversation was clearly wearing off. _ S, how R U getting out of here w/out seeing F&G? U will be Ron for 45 more mins._

"I thought that would be clear, even to you. You're going to distract them while I escort Miss De Winter home."

Percy's face was red. Scully sensed the cease-fire was over. _Y U not distract? _

Scully cut in before Severus could comment on either Percy's logic or his shorthand. "I'll be all right, both of you. I just need to pick up my robe at Madame Malkin's, and I'll catch a cab from Charing Cross Road. Besides, Severus is right, Percy. You'll have to make sure your brothers don't see him like this."

Both men regarded her in astonishment.

"You can't think we would be so base as to let you go home unescorted."

_NOT by yourself._

Scully felt her own cheeks flush. "I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. _Really_."

Mulder would have backed off at that tone. Percy looked uncertain. Severus seemed even more annoyed than she was.

"Miss De Winter, I of all people know that you are not to be trifled with. Weasley and I are objecting because we are concerned for your personal safety; but you need an escort for appearance's sake. You can put on an expensive frock and do your hair beautifully, but if you go unescorted through Diagon Alley in the evening, you appear no better than one of the ladies of the evening who loiter outside the Du Bonnay Club."

Percy gave Severus a reproachful look, but nodded in agreement.

"But that's ridiculous."

"Correct. But that's the game, Miss De Winter. Will you be playing this evening or throwing in the towel?"

Game, set. Severus fifteen, Scully love.

She gritted her teeth. "Point conceded, Severus. Percy, I had a marvelous time this evening, in spite of everything that didn't go as planned. I couldn't have asked for a better liaison. Thank you for everything."

Percy nodded, and began rummaging through his money pouch to settle the bill. Severus put out a hand.

"Allow me, Weasley. I did join you uninvited, after all."

Percy shook his head.

"At least allow me to pay for my meal and Miss De Winter's, even if you insist on paying for your own."

Percy shook his head.

Color was beginning to rise in Severus's freckled cheeks. "Don't be an ass, Weasley. I'm not offering to buy you a summer home. I'm paying for dinner at a reasonably priced restaurant. I'm afraid I must insist."

Percy dropped his eyes and began counting out galleons and sickles. Snape's hand shot out and caught his wrist.

"I will not be refused." His voice was low. Dangerous.

Percy yanked his arm out of Severus's grasp.

"Of all the stubborn-" Severus whipped out his own money purse and was about to thrust a handful of galleons at Percy, when the bill disappeared with a pop. Both men spun to look where it had been and saw Scully calmly closing up her makeshift purse.

"Really, gentlemen, if you wanted me to pay for dinner, you might have just said so," she said dryly. "Of course, that wouldn't be the game, now would it?"

She claimed her jacket at the coat check and sighed, waiting for Severus and Percy to finish their argument over who was the greater cad. Percy was really very sweet, and showed a great deal of ambition and resourcefulness, but he was so, well, _young._ And he really did need to stop taking himself so seriously. Time and experience would temper those flaws. She hoped that he his experiences would change him for the better rather than close him off, like Severus- and like herself. However, she figured that the can of worms that was Percy Weasley was best opened by someone else.

The two men finally appeared, each appearing chagrined in his own way. Percy looked a bit glum at the prospect of facing his brothers while still under the influence of their sweet, and Scully could not resist giving him a chaste embrace and kiss on the cheek.

"I will await your owl, cousin, though I shall likely be so engrossed in reading that Hermes may have to peck me on the head to get my attention."

He gave a short smile, returned her kiss and swept out the door.

Severus clucked his tongue disapprovingly as he swathed himself in a textured velvet cape. It was rather striking against his bright orange hair. Scully noticed for the first time that Percy's younger brother was approximately the same height and approximate build as Severus: undoubtedly another reason for choosing to impersonate him with polyjuice potion.

"What time did the old hen say your robe would be finished?"

"Eleven. It's already half past."

He gave a noncommittal grunt and escorted her out the door. Scully was pleased to note that he automatically scanned the street for potential trouble before stepping out of the shadows. She had forgotten that aside from being an exemplar of chivalry (she almost snorted out loud at that thought), Severus Snape was an accomplished double agent. A man after my own heart, she thought as he swept open the door of Madame Malkin's and ushered her in.

Severus loitered near the door while Madame Malkin's assistant wrapped up her robe. Fortunately, she had enough left over from her impromptu assertion of independence at the restaurant to tip the assistant well for the delicate golden caduceus she had requested embroidered on the shoulder. Apparently, it was an unfamiliar symbol in the Wizarding world, so she'd had to draw it for Madame Malkin earlier.

She soon found herself being whisked down Diagon Alley in the opposite direction she was expecting. Rather than risk Severus's ridicule, she thought for a moment. Ahah. Severus didn't want to risk the Du Bonnay Club again, so they would be exiting through the disreputable pub Percy had mentioned. The Something Cauldron.

When the weatherworn wooden sign came into view, Scully had to downplay a smile. She wondered if the pub had been named by someone who had purchased a knockoff Revere cauldron. The pink that tinged Severus's ears led her to believe that he was thinking something along those lines, as well.

She barely caught a glance of the insomniac proprietor that Percy had mentioned before she found herself standing next to Severus on Charing Cross Road, several blocks away from the National Portrait Gallery, where she had entered with Percy. Severus expertly flagged down a cab and opened the door for her.

"London Elizabeth Hotel," he barked at the cab driver. The driver looked none too pleased to be taking orders from a kid less than half his age, and turned up the volume of his Best of Ravi Shankar tape in protest.

That suited Scully fine. She wondered if she and Severus would have anything to say to one another, but the droning sitar music had successfully alleviated any awkwardness. She kicked off her high-heeled shoes and sighed in relief. She wanted to do nothing but sit and digest everything she had seen and experienced that evening.

Severus had other ideas. He drew his wand and motioned for her to do the same. He murmured a few words and briefly touched their wand tips together. Scully felt a warm wave of energy roll up her arm and into her skull. Immediately, she heard Severus's voice in her head.

"…in a kingdom by the sea, there lived a maid whom you may know-"

She jumped. "God, Severus, you startled me!"

He winced. "You needn't shout, for heaven's sake." Scully noticed that his lips were barely moving.

"Sorry, is this better?" She was barely whispering.

"You can speak more or less normally."

She recited the first few sentences of the Miranda rights, and watched a tiny smile grace his lips.

"This is wonderful, Severus."

"Tosh, any sixteen-year old with half a brain could do this spell." But his ears were pink again.

"You're welcome."

They sat listening to the music for a few minutes.

"Severus?"

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry about what happened when we first met. You know, when I kneed you in the-"

"Yes, yes," he interrupted with an impatient wave of the hand. "It's forgotten." He pursed his lips at her. "Well, perhaps 'forgotten' is the wrong word. We shall say I received much-needed refresher course in assessing one's opponent, as well as a lesson on the temper of redheads."

"Really? I couldn't tell if you'd learned that lesson from the way you treated Percy this evening."

"Dr. Scully, I don't tell you how to conduct postmortems. I would appreciate the same courtesy directed toward me and my own affairs. Besides, I've always found Weasley to be so insufferably-"

"Young?" Scully supplied tactfully.

"Something along those lines, yes."

"But surely as a man of experience and an educator you recognize his potential."

"Perhaps he contains a modicum of above-average intelligence and an odium of ambition, but he lacks a certain panache, a degree of subtlety that is so often lacking in members of his house."

"His house?"

"I'm quite amazed that Weasley hasn't regaled you with stories of what a partial and awful professor I was to him and all the other Gryffindors."

"Oh. School dormitories."

"School dormitories?" Severus let out a harsh laugh. "It's only the decision that brands you for the rest of your life. As head of Slytherin house, it was my duty and privilege to

instill the virtue of intolerance toward the Gryffindor house to countless young people."

"Funny, Percy didn't really tell me much about school. All he said to me was that you knew how to push his buttons as effectively as any member of his family."

"Though I'm sure he told you all about being Head Boy."

"Never even mentioned it."

Severus lapsed into silent thought, which lasted until the hotel's marquee was visible. As the cab pulled up to the curb, Severus murmured a word and Scully felt their aural connection sever. When Scully reached for her bag, Severus stayed her hand, though more gently than he had Percy's.

"Since you were kind enough to pay for dinner, allow me to-"

"Of course."

She allowed him to open the cab door for her. He gave her a dark look, but then she realized that it wasn't a dark look, but his face and hair were getting darker, the freckles fading. The polyjuice potion must be wearing off! Taking in the crowds of people still milling about the front of the hotel, she reacted with reflexes honed by years in the FBI and tae-kwon-do. She grabbed the hood of his cape, yanked it down over his head, and threw herself against him, effectively shielding his entire body from view. He stiffened, but placed his arms around her, almost as an afterthought. The seconds passed, and Scully felt Severus's body change shape, his muscles reform, and at last, his long hair brush her cheek. His chin was resting comfortably on the top of her head, and his neck smelled faintly of fresh wood shavings.

"Are you feeling more like yourself again?"

"Yes." His voice sounded odd.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes."

He sounded like he was in shock. What if the transformation had been painful? At the very least, she needed to have a look at him. She took a step back. "Would you be so kind as to escort me to my room?"

"Of course." That sounded a little more like the Severus she knew, a touch of impatience coloring his civilities. He drew back his hood and glanced down at her with hawk like imperiousness. "Would the good doctor accept my arm?"

"She would, and she will."

Once in the elevator, Severus turned to her. "I must say, that this has been a most entertaining evening."

His skin was warm, but not feverish. Pale, but not sickly. Pupils focused, breathing regular. Definitely not in shock. "Entertaining, indeed."

He walked her down the hall and halted in front of her room. "I will look for Albus's owl. I should hope you have the discretion not to acknowledge me in the unlikely event that you spot me at the Brisbin Institute. However, should we meet in a social setting, it is my great wish that you should speak with me."

Scully wasn't sure whether to respond to the insult or the compliment. Severus took advantage of her silence by grasping her hands in his.

"For your quick thinking and peace brokering skills, I thank you."

"You're welcome."

"On your poise and aplomb, I compliment you."

"Thank you." Scully knew the rule of threes as well as the next girl and braced herself for what was to come.

"I hope our paths cross again soon, Dr. Scully. Good night." He released her hands and disapparated with a pop.

Apparently Severus didn't know the rule of threes. Or, more likely, he ignored it. She entered her room with a little more vehemence than she wanted to think about at the moment. She dropped her bag on the desk and started unbuttoning the back of her robe. Dratted tiny buttons. The door to Mulder's room was open and the light was on. Good. She grabbed "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" and stuck her head in.

"Mulder?"

He didn't answer. He was sprawled out on the bed with his head on "1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi." His pillow was on the other side of the room near an enormous pile of beer bottles. Had he drunk all of them by himself? She shook her head and covered her unconscious partner with the sheet that had managed to knot itself around his feet. He didn't even stir. Leaving the book on the nightstand for him, she turned out the lights and closed the door with an impatient sigh. Couldn't she leave him alone for one evening? Honestly!

She managed to undo all the tiny buttons on the back of her robe herself. All in all, it was much easier to take off than to put on. She hung it in the closet next to her new robe.

After scrubbing her face clean, removing all the bobby pins from her hair (she'd wash the shellac out tomorrow) and brushing her teeth, she put on her pyjamas and got into bed. Once there, she realized she wasn't at all tired. Besides, her new pile of books was calling to her. The shyly smiling young man on the cover of "My Friend Harry" caught her attention. She opened the book and began reading.

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Publisher's Note: Soon after The Battle of Hoffen Field officially ended the recent conflict, this diary, written by sixth-year student Neville Longbottom was found in a pile of abandoned student belongings left over from the Siege of Hogwarts. The diary begins on Neville's sixteenth birthday, November 11, 1997, two weeks before the students went into hiding. Due to the phenomenal community support and mounting interest in Neville's all-too-short life, we at the Longbottom Memorial Society are currently working on a research project to compile eyewitness accounts and verify the dates (since Longbottom did not include these in his diary entries) for a definitive edition of "My Friend Harry," due out in 2003. Neville's extraordinary courage, humor and hope for the future will live on, while the rhetoric of fear and intolerance will perish with those who spread it. We are pleased to bring you this special uncut edition of "My Friend Harry." Special afterword by Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

Dear Diary,

Today was my sixteenth birthday. Gran got me a Goldenseal plant for me to keep in my room, after the accident I had over the summer with the _Mimbulus mimbletonia._ I'm sure Uncle Algie will take good care of it while I'm at school. The pot came with a cover so he won't bark at night when we're trying to sleep. I think I'll keep it by the window so the dorm doesn't start smelling of fish. I've named him Frank. I got loads of other presents from my friends, mostly Honedukes sweets (I'm not touching the ones Fred and George sent from London) but Harry gave me this diary. He says he has one like it for writing down his dreams and that it's fun to go back and read things later. He says maybe it will help me organize my thoughts. I've never had a diary before, so I hope I'm doing this all right. I'll try to write in this every day, unless I forget. Speaking of which, my remembrall is flashing. I'm going to find Hermione and figure out what I've forgotten to do. Talk to you soon.

Love, Neville

PS I forgot to brush my teeth. Sometimes a remembrall is more trouble than it's worth.

Dear Diary,

This was the worst day ever. I woke up late and it was raining. Herbology was cancelled because greenhouse four was flooded (we were supposed to be repotting our beer barrel cacti, but some of them may have been diluted beyond salvaging), so I didn't even have Professor Sprout to remind me I'm not a complete idiot after potions. And potions! I added too much of something and my potion exploded all over me. Really, it's a good thing I messed it up, because if I'd exploded a properly made Digestion Drought I might have burned my skin off. As it was, it just made me really confused and angry. Professor Snape said something nasty to me and since I didn't know who he was I started yelling at him; who was he and who did he think he was and what right did he have to speak to me that way. His face sort of puffed up and he blustered for a moment before taking thirty points from Gryffindor. Since I didn't know what Gryffindor was, I started laughing. He took another twenty points off, but had no idea what to do with me. He told me to sit down and keep quiet until my ruined potion wore off. I answered that if he was the instructor he was a very poor one if he couldn't brew an antidote for a simple potions mistake. Then he put a full body bind on me and continued with class perfectly normally, as if one of his students wasn't lying on the floor unable to move or remember anything. When the lesson was over, Snape chased all my friends out of the room and took his time examining my cauldron before taking the petrificus off me. By then I had remembered everything and was shaking horribly in anticipation of whatever he was going to do. He ended up taking another twenty points from Gryffindor and giving me detention for tonight. In Divination, Professor Trelawney predicted that I'd fall down the ladder after class. Since I was concentrating so much on getting down the ladder without falling, I accidentally stepped on Ron's fingers, panicked, and (you guessed it) fell. Transfiguration was hopeless. Dinner was meatloaf and green beans (I hate meatloaf and green beans), and for detention Professor Snape made me mouth-pipette exactly 15 mLs of liquefied mooncalf stool into ninety-six different flasks. He told me that if I threw up and ruined his stores of stool I'd have another detention less pleasant than this. On top of it all, he kept making snide remarks about mum and dad while I was pipetting (I swear he did it just so I'd break concentration and get poo in my mouth). I didn't dare answer back, but I think some of my tears got into the dung. I hope they make something foul explode on him. Sometimes I think I'd be the happiest boy in the world if Snape would just go away. Right now, I'd settle for being able to do something right. Thanks for listening.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

I can't believe it! Professor Snape is gone! This was the best potions class ever. Professor Aurelius, the substitute, asked me a question and I knew the answer. She reminds me of Gran, except she's not as strict and doesn't wear hats. Hermione gave me a hug for brewing my own Melting Mixture without even melting the cauldron. I can't believe how much better potions is when Snape isn't there. I hope Dumbledore finally wised up and sacked him. Perhaps it's horrible for me to say (write?) that. I'm sure he's very good at potions, but he's a horrible teacher. Must go. Frank is barking and Seamus is threatening to hex me if I don't shush him.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

Still no sign of Snape, which is good. Classes are fine. Frank's flowers are fading, but he does brilliant tricks with his own seedpods. He's taken a fancy to Dean, who brings him leftovers from dinner sometimes. Seamus wants to get him a tiny rack of bicycle horns to play like in the Muggles circuses. Life is okay. A second-year in Gryffindor got a black envelope in the post today. She didn't even bother opening it before she burst in to tears. Ron says her mum was an auror. More on that later. Transfiguration study group in ten minutes. It's all the way over in Ravenclaw. Blech!

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I hope Professor Snape is all right. Some of the Slytherins were bugging Professor Aurelius about Snape's return and she let slip that he was supposed to be back a week ago. She was so mad at them that she took 20 points from Slytherin each. Three more black envelopes today; one for a student every house except Slytherin. Is anyone surprised? Here's the strange thing: nobody received their Daily Prophets today either. Classes are good. I've stopped trying to study in the common room altogether because if I'm down there Fred and George always try to make me eat their newest trick sweets. They won't let me alone until I've let them turn me into a canary or some rubbish like that. Everyone thinks it's really funny. I try to laugh along with them, but I'm getting tired of it. Why can't they pick on someone else for a change? I hope you don't think I'm a baby for complaining about them when so many other horrible things are going on in the world. I guess I don't need to worry about getting a black envelope, what with Gran living in Italy, but I know everyone else, especially the Muggle-borns, are worried. Thanks for listening.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

It's been two weeks since I last wrote to you because you somehow got wadded up in a pair of pants and shoved under the bed. I hope you won't be offended once I explain to you everything that's happened. Well, I haven't time to tell you everything. All of us students are supposed to go into hiding. Twelve black envelopes this morning. Twelve! But I'm rambling. Dumbledore just announced to the whole school that Voldemort (the headmaster doesn't want us to call him "he-who-must-not-be-named" anymore) has taken over the Ministry of Magic. The Minister is dead. So are all the department heads. So are most of the Ministry's researchers. Ron says it's the only time he's ever been glad Fudge never promoted his dad. Harry reckons that Lucius Malfoy's being allowed back into the Ministry as a condition of Fudge's retirement is what made it possible for the coup to work, but who's to say at this point? Dean is bugging me to stop because they're all waiting for me in the common room. He's got Frank. Good. More later.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

No post this morning, but you won't believe where we're staying. We're all in some kind of gigantic cave under Hogwarts. It's the biggest room I've ever seen, which is good, since all of us have to live in it. Who had any idea that the entrance to a place like this massive was in the haunted girls' restroom? Ron said Fred and George once found a room full of chamber pots off one of the boy's rooms, but this room beats it, hands down. Still, I don't think I'd want to come down here by myself. The statues at the entrance look like they could slither off their pedestals at any time and eat you. I'll bet the Slytherins feel right at home here. It was really hard to sleep last night because it was our first night in a new place, plus everyone's snores reverberated off the stone walls. I know Harry couldn't sleep either because he always snores, but I didn't hear him last night. This morning the Profs put up partitions and started up classes as normally as possible. Transfiguration, Defense, History of Magic and Charms are pretty much the same, but there's not enough room to do practical Potions or Herbology work down here, which means more memorization (yuck). The good part is that it's hard to melt a cauldron in theory. The bad part is that nobody is taking care of the plants in the greenhouses. Professor Sprout is really unhappy about that, but she cheered up some when I introduced her to Frank. We rigged up a light so he won't wither without the sun. Trelawney is teaching us meditation rather than alectryomancy. I'm so glad! For meditation we have to empty our minds, which, unsurprisingly, isn't too hard for me. Well, it's easier when I'm not in class. She makes me kind of nervous. I've been practicing before bed this week. Ron thinks that before bed is the best time to do it, since it makes him fall asleep in class. Now that we have a semblance of walls (and a bit more privacy), it's easier to pretend we're back in Gryffindor tower in our beds and not on pallets on the floor of a cave. I don't know if the partitions will make everyone's snoring less loud, but I transfigured two of Frank's seed pods into earplugs. They still rattle if I move my head too much, but at least they fit in my ears.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

Still no post today. Why do I even bother reporting that? Let's just say there's no post until otherwise noted. When we first came down here I didn't understand why. I mean, I understood why they have to hide Harry and the Muggle-borns, but at first I was upset that they had to guard us like we were all first years. But I think the point is to keep us all in rather than keep others out. Today, a seventh-year Hufflepuff girl whose name I don't know attacked Professor Sinistra and tried to escape during a toilet break. The Ravenclaw seeker managed to stun her before she fired off any more unforgivables. McGonagall took the girl to Dumbledore (wherever he is, he doesn't stay long during his visits) and Madame Pomfrey is taking care of Sinistra. The prognosis, as of around two o'clock, was not good. We weren't supposed to hear this, but I heard that the girl who attacked her had a dark mark on her arm. She's only two years older than me! Ron says her family has been anti-muggle for generations. I got really mad when he said it like it was no big deal. What kind of family raises a child to believe that violence is a legitimate political technique? What kind of person swears allegiance to an insane leader? We all think about the war that's going on a few thousand yards above our heads in abstract terms, and we are all appalled by the atrocities (how could we not be?), but so many don't understand why it's happening. Voldemort would have us believe that everything that's gone wrong in our society is the fault of Muggles. I personally don't believe that, but plenty of people (including Gran) still feel that to some extent, pure blood is superior to mixed. I fear that we, as a society, will be susceptible to fanaticism until we understand tolerance. Why is that such a difficult thing? Dean just told me, Professor Sinistra is dead. I feel sick.

Neville

Dear Diary,

I had a long talk with Harry today, mostly about the Grindelwald Conflict. He says that Muggles were having a war at the same time and that over fifty million Muggles died in it. Fifty million! I doubt that there are that many Magical people in the world! Gran told me a little bit about having to leave London when she was a girl because of all the bombing, but most Witches and Wizards didn't live in cities at that point. It all sounded much more interesting than the Grindewald Conflict, and to be honest, I've forgotten lots of it already. But the way Harry described it, it sounded depressingly familiar: homicidal maniac spreads the word that everything wrong with the world can be blamed on a defenseless group of people. In order to make society great, the tainted blood must be purged from the population. I wanted to know more about it, but Harry says he hasn't studied it since he was nine. I think when I was nine I was still trying to learn my colors. I wonder how many times this has happened in the course of human events. Then again, maybe I'd be happier not knowing. Dumbledore ate lunch with us today and announced that the entire school would be listening to WNN reports tonight. Luckily, Voldemort hasn't managed to shut them down yet. Well, got to go eat dinner. It's much grottier now than it was before we went into hiding. I'm not quite sure why, since the house elves still make our beds and things.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

So little has happened recently, it almost seems a shame to waste a page of you writing about it, but I'm bored. Saturdays are the worst because there's no quidditch and no classes to keep us from our growing ennui. Do you like the word "ennui?" It means listless or bored. I found the word in a book I borrowed from Dean. I've been trying to borrow non-academic books from people I know, but people are guarding their personal items like Gringotts goblins. Sadly, I don't have much to barter with. Frank would get homesick and I'm not about to let anyone read you, Diary. It's amazing the things that people brought with them down here. Some brought ordinary things like stashes of Honeydukes sweets or their favorite books (of course Ron brought "Flying With the Cannons") but others have the oddest accoutrements. An "accoutrement" is an object or accessory with which one defines oneself. Examples of odd accoutrements: Sam Gobtottle brought an umbrella. Nigel Popkins brought a wooden frog that croaks when you rub your wand against the ridges on its back. And so speculating on accoutrements keeps me from ennui. I'm off to return Dean's book and borrow another, if he has one that I haven't read.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

Classes are fine. I'm reading "Catch-22," a right funny book that I borrowed from Blaise Zaibini in exchange for a pair of earplugs. WNN reports that the "interim Ministry" are making dozens of new anti-Muggle/Muggleborn laws every day. Muggle-borns must register their wands with the Ministry. Muggle-borns are not allowed to apparate. Muggle-Wizard unions are now illegal. Muggle-borns are not allowed to be outside past nine o' clock. I'm beginning to think we have more freedom holed up in a cave than the Muggle-borns have now! On a more personal front I must confess, I think there's something odd going on in our hideout. At first I thought I was imagining things, but some of the students are disappearing. The funny (and good) thing is that they don't disappear for good, they just go away for a few days at a time. It hasn't happened to any of my roommates (I'd know for sure then!), but I think everyone who's disappeared is a seventh year. I'll keep an eye out and let you know more about it later.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

Another rainy day. Well, I don't know that it's raining, but I don't know that it's not raining, either. I fancy it is, since ennui has struck the student body in force. I just finished a lovely book of poems that I borrowed from Hermione. "Wisdom is a butterfly and not a gloomy bird of prey." I thought of Professors Flitwick and Snape respectively upon reading that line. It's very sad to come to the end of a book. I daresay (Pride and Prejudice word) I've read more books for recreation in the last three weeks than I have in all my years at Hogwarts. WNN reports record amounts of vandalism and violence against Muggle-borns. Lucius Malfoy has introduced the Muggle-born Protection Act, which involves moving all Muggle-borns to safer, secure locations to keep them from being victimized. Why does this not strike me as a good thing? Classes are fine. Friends are a bit stir-crazy (interesting phrase from "Catch-22") from being in here for so long. Ron claims to hate reading, so he's been trying to start a chess club (his chess set being his other favored accoutrement). He bugged us all to sign up, but I don't even know how to play chess (nor do I have any desire to be trounced at something else). Well, I've got a big Transfiguration exam coming up, so I'd best get to study group. One good thing about being in hiding is not having to go up so many stairs to study with Ravenclaws.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

Ginny turned up missing today. Sarah Moran (one of her roommates) shooed me off when I asked her where she is. I asked McGonagall if she's seen her, and she said that she was with Madame Pomfrey, but I couldn't find her anywhere. There is something fishy going on. Am I the only person who's noticed this? Then again, maybe everyone else has better things to think about. Being in such close quarters has started to take its toll. I never thought I'd wish for a return to ennui, but it's better than everyone fighting all the time. A few people's wands were confiscated after a big fight between some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Hermione is going crazy without the library at her disposal. She yelled at me when I asked for help with Charms. Hermione never yells. She must be really upset. Even Frank seems a bit off-color lately. We've only been in hiding a month now, and yet so many seem to have lost hope. Not hearing from families has been difficult for many. I guess that's why Harry and I don't seem to be as affected as the rest. Harry and I were up late talking last night and I told him about my parents. I think he already knew, but I don't mind, really. We talked about foster families (his sounds even meaner than Gran during spring cleaning!). He was really sad at the way so many take their families for granted. I'm pretty sure he meant Ron. Incidentally, I don't think Ron has even noticed that Ginny's gone. Ron's a nice guy and all, but I don't think he really understands what it's like to be without a family. I hope he never has to. Well, I fell asleep in Charms today from being up so late last night, so I'd better stop writing now and get some rest.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

Wonderful news! Ginny is back! She doesn't seem very happy about being back, though. I asked her about being gone, and she said that she was minding her own business, insinuating that I should do the same. That's friendly. I took the hint and didn't say anything else. I told Harry about Ginny's disappearance and reappearance, and he was intrigued. He figures we should keep a lookout for missing people in our own house and try to figure out where they go. That seems reasonable to me. Oh yeah, classes are fine. I don't know if it's me or not, but they seem much easier. Maybe the teachers have too much on their minds to challenge us properly. I'm not sure if that's a bad or good thing. WNN reports that Azkaban has been destroyed and that the Dementors have allied themselves with Voldemort. The terrifying thing is that it happened over a month ago, before the Ministry fell! I was sitting next to Harry when they announced it, and he looked angrier than I've ever seen him. You don't suppose he suspected, do you?

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

Everything is in an uproar. Hermione Granger is gone. Ron is beside himself. Dean and Seamus tried to calm him down, but he was bellowing at the top of his lungs during breakfast so much that people in Australia are wondering over their dinners who Hermione is. McGonagall took Ron away, and he wasn't in classes today. After classes, I found Harry and Ron discussing the best way to get Hermione back. Ron was all set to go looking for her, but Harry pointed out that they didn't know how to get out of the cave. Ron let slip that Harry had been here before, but Harry shushed him before he could tell me under what circumstances. When I asked, Harry rather curtly told me that it was an ancient hiding place, but nothing else. Ron scowled and said that the only reason I was worried about Hermione was because I didn't have anyone to do my homework for me anymore.

I must confess, dear Diary, that I was very angry at that. I felt my eyes tear up and ran away before I started crying in front of them. I managed to find a relatively secluded place behind one of the Charms partitions (there's no real privacy in this place!) and sobbed. I'm not quite sure why I cried so hard and for so long, but I think it's because I feel so useless holed up here with no way to help anyone. I didn't even notice Harry rubbing circles on my back at first. He had a painful-looking knot on his cheek and was crying, too. I buried my head in his shoulder, and he started crying harder. I don't know how long we stayed there weeping, but when we both calmed down enough for me to heal the bruise on his cheek we knew we'd missed dinner.

When we returned to our makeshift dormitory, Ron refused to look at us. Remembering the intensity and duration of their last big fight and not wishing to repeat the days of prickly silence, I went over to Ron and asked him if McGonagall had told him anything about Hermione's whereabouts. He looked surprised for a minute and said that Hermione is fine, but won't be back for a few days. That wasn't the answer I was expecting, and I unthinkingly asked why he was so upset if she was okay. He scowled again (I braced myself for a nasty insult or a blow to the face) and said he wasn't surprised that I didn't understand what it was like to have close friends.

This was so absurd to me I couldn't hold in a laugh. I told him he could stand to learn a thing or two about his own friends if he thought Hermione couldn't take care of herself or that Harry didn't care about her. I was sure he was going to hit me, but I didn't move, even when he drew back his fist. But he didn't hit me. He just sat back down on his bed and ignored me. After lights out, I heard someone sniffling, but I know it wasn't Harry.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

Here's much ado about nothing: Hermione was back this morning. I think she was as closed-mouthed about her absence as Ginny was, because Harry and Ron were both sulking. At least they seem to have made up. She was so relieved when I asked her for help with Charms instead of asking where she'd been. She seemed exhausted, but not at all unhappy. On the contrary, she seemed very much like pre-hiding Hermione, down to her impatient sigh when she knew my mind was elsewhere. As grateful as I am for Hermione's help, she doesn't seem to understand what I'm asking all the time. She automatically assumes I didn't understand something she said, even if I'm asking her for a clarification on her previous answer. I hope she doesn't want to be a teacher, because if helping me frustrates her, I think she might explode with even dimmer students. Not that there can be too many students dimmer than me, of course. I was just thinking about something Harry said the other day about writing in diaries. Supposedly diaries are for recording your deepest secret feelings. So far I have put almost nothing in my diary that sprang forth spontaneously from the deep parts of me. I suppose that's all right. There's really not much to me. I don't think, dear Diary, that you'd be interested in my deep, secret thoughts anyway. Most of them are about girls. And kissing. Is it horrible to think about kissing when there's a war going on? Probably. I appreciate your listening, Diary. I want to ask Harry something tonight when we're the only ones awake. I had a thought about why the people who've disappeared have disappeared, and I want to see what he thinks.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

There is so much to tell but I have to go! Quick version: I figured everyone who's disappeared is really clever at something useful, like Hermione at charms, Fred and George at potions, Isaac Withington at healing, that kind of thing. I'll bet (and Harry agrees!) that the school is being used as a base for fighters on our side. That would certainly explain the meals recently. The disappearing students are probably helping out with the war effort in some regard. Tonight Harry and I will start staking out the entrances to see which one we can use to sneak out. I told Harry that he'd probably get to go anyway, him being the Boy that Lived and all (Defense Against the Dark Arts, anyone?), but he's really looking forward to the stakeout. I wish there was a less sneaky way to aid the war effort. Oh well, he's the one experienced with sneaking around. Time to put your money where your mouth is, Longbottom.

Love, Neville

Dear Diary,

I'm falling asleep as I write this but don't want to forget. Secret passage, base of creepy wizard statue, password "forktongue."

Sweet dreams, Neville

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Having fallen asleep with her hand still holding her place in "My Friend Harry," Scully had very strange dreams that night.

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Author's Notes: Thanks to the amazing Anne Frank, the inimitable Edgar Allan Poe, and to my boyfriend who listened to me blather about Communist and Fascist dictators all week. I own none except my boyfriend. Thanks to those of you who've made it this far!

Ozma: I'm so glad you liked it Severus colluding with the twins. I liked it so much myself that I included more here:D

Eigwayne: The limericks were great fun to write! Of course, hanging out on RhymeZone eased the "creative" process greatly. Now if Fred and George invented a Sonnet Sourball... (author's note: ACK!)

Bonnie913: More of Neville's story is coming up. I hope this wasn't too much of a cliffhanger!

Ariana Deralte: You win the Ryven Award for Excellence in Guessing Where Mundungus42 is Taking This Turkey for chapter 13! I had a dickens of a time locating "The Diary of Anne Frank" (the non-play version) at the library. Of course, Neville's is kind of Anne Frank on speed. As for the fireball wand, there is more coming, although there was a hint in this chapter as to the owner of the older fireball wand…

Miriam: Thank you so much! I'm glad the whole crossover thing didn't scare you off. Incidentally, proofreading one of my former charge's X-Files fanfic was what got me watching the show. Fanfic is potent stuff! Thank you so much for you kind review, and I hope you enjoy this and future chapters.

Juryu: I have great hopes for Neville in future Harry Potter books. In canon, I certainly hope Neville's isn't the "extremely difficult death to write" that JK Rowling described in an interview. But I have until book 5 comes out to do whatever I wish to poor Neville.


	14. Polyphony

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: Self-imposed PG13  
  
Category: Harry Potter/X-Files Crossover  
  
Spoilers: X-Files up to but not including the movie (seasons 1-5), Harry Potter through Goblet of Fire.  
  
Disclaimer: None of it is mine except for the name Nigel Popkins, of which I'm inordinately fond.  
  
Last Chapter's Title Definition: Tenuto: To sustain a single note for its full time value; no more, no less.  
  
Author's Note: Ack! Must advance two plots now! I hope to be back on regular-update schedule by the next chapter. I was distracted this week by an April Fool's Day spoofing event. Love and more given in endnotes.  
  
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Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Fourteenth  
  
Scully awoke to the patter of raindrops against her window. A glance at the clock startled her completely awake, but then she remembered that it was Saturday. An entire day to herself, at least until Mulder woke up. From the snores emanating from their connecting door, she figured that he would be out until at least eleven. In the meantime, she leafed through the room service menu and phoned in an order for orange juice, cold cereal with peaches, and a scone. While she waited for the food to come, she took a shower. It took two shampoos to get all the styling products out of her hair. She barely had time to throw on her robe and towel-dry her hair before there was a knock at the door.  
  
The kitchen envoy wheeled the cart into the room and set an elegant place for her at the desk near the window. She opened her makeshift purse to give the woman a tip, only to discover that all she had were galleons, sickles, and knuts. She frowned and located her regular purse, which thankfully had a few pounds in it. She absently held out two pounds, but the woman didn't take it. She was staring out the window with an odd expression on her face.  
  
"Excuse me?" Scully was perhaps a little shorter than was necessary, but she was still in her bathrobe, after all.  
  
The woman jumped slightly. "Beg your pardon ma'am, but there's an owl perched on the ledge outside your window. If you move slowly you might keep from startling him."  
  
Uh oh. Probably Hermes. Thank heaven she hadn't noticed what the owl was carrying. She briskly shoved the money into the woman's hand. "Thank you."  
  
The woman bobbed a small curtsy and left.  
  
After locking the door, Scully flung open the window and winced as the wind blew the drops into her room. The sodden-looking creature turned to look at her mournfully. It wasn't Hermes. It was a young snowy owl, and he was thoroughly drenched. Scully clicked her tongue and held out her arm, and the owl clambered on with a disconsolate hoot. She took him into the bathroom and began gently rubbing his feathers with a hand towel. He was about ten inches high, and very well behaved. He accepted her ministrations without protest, and even lifted his wings to grant her access to the sodden feathers underneath. She untied the scroll from around his leg, and she could have sworn that he sighed.  
  
"There's no need to be dramatic," she told him sternly. "You can stay until the rain lets up."  
  
He brightened visibly at that, and began preening his primary feathers.  
  
She took the scroll into the other room. Thankfully the ink hadn't smudged in the rain. Then again, it was probably magical ink.  
  
i Dear Mr. Mulder, /i  
  
Oops, it was for Mulder. Wait, why was Mulder receiving strange owls? She read on.  
  
i Having gone through my records while bearing your information in mind, I came across several records that may prove quite interesting to you in light of recent events. I would like very much to meet with you, your partner, and Albus for Sunday brunch in the privacy of your room, if that is amenable to you both.  
  
I apologize for leaving so abruptly last night. Albus postponed our morning tea today until the afternoon, which leads me to believe he was conversing with you until very late. I can hardly wait to hear what transpired between the two of you! I look forward to speaking with you again and meeting your partner, hopefully tomorrow. Please send your reply back with Amacheuch.  
  
Yours,  
  
Nicholas Flamel /i  
  
Albus and Nicholas Flamel? So Mulder did do something besides drink himself into a stupor last night. She wondered what they'd discussed, but decided that she lacked the imagination and wakefulness to extrapolate.  
  
After she finishing breakfast and placing the dishes and silverware outside the door, she noticed that the Flamel's owl, Amacheuch, had flown out of the bathroom and was perched on the desk chair.  
  
"Sorry little guy, but Mulder's not awake yet. You'll have to wait here." Nonplussed, the owl tucked his head under his wing and promptly fell asleep.  
  
Scully went to the bathroom where the fog on the mirror had already dissipated enough for her to study her face. There were still dark smudges under her eyes from the variety of eye makeups that hadn't been completely washed away. Grabbing a Kleenex, she began rubbing away the remnants. When she had finished, the difference between her appearance this morning and her appearance last night was especially marked. As lovely as the previous evening had been, it was a relief to see her own bare face staring back at her. It was fun to dress up every now and then, but if the foolishness she'd endured from Percy and Severus was any indication of Magical world's attitude toward attractive women, she would be at her best advantage to look completely average.  
  
Severus. Now there was a puzzle. One minute he was threatening to hex her, the next paying her compliments. She was still confused by his attentions. Were they in response to her Daphne De Winter act or were the in response to her? Where did the act end and truth begin? Was there any way of knowing? And did it really matter? In retrospect, she was more than a little disappointed that Severus stooped to baiting Percy as much as he did, especially when undercover. It smacked of unprofessionalism. Not that Percy had been much better. At least he had managed to keep silent. Not that he'd had much choice there. Then again, perhaps the situation for them was as irregular as it had been for her. For all the muddle that last night had been, one thing was clear: she still had quite a bit to learn about the Magical world.  
  
Oh well, no time like the present to continue that education. She threw on a t-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants and lay down on the bed. She turned on the bedside lamp and found her place "My Friend Harry."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
i  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
Both Harry and I fell asleep in Transfiguration today. McGonnegal was so annoyed with us that she took ten points from Gryffindor. I wonder if house points count for anything anymore. Who knows if we'll even have a school left at the end of the year? Ron was looking at us kind of funny, like he suspected we were up to something. I told Harry about hearing people use the secret passage, but told him that it would be stupid to stay up two nights in a row. Fortunately, he was even more tired than I was and didn't argue. I wonder why Ron didn't come along last night. Probably because there are only two ways in and out, so we didn't need three people to stake out. Harry couldn't exactly leave me out since the idea was mine. Well, the sneaking out was Harry's idea, but it was me who figured out what was going on. Anyway, I don't think Harry told Ron because he'd have to explain why he left him out in the first place. Of course, he couldn't have been along in the first place because he wasn't speaking to Harry or me at the time. I was just in the right place at the right time. Or maybe I was in the wrong place at the right time. I'm not making much sense, am I? Maybe I'll come back and read this and laugh. In that case, might as well leave a joke for myself. How do you get a Slytherin out of a tree? You cut the rope. I heard that when I was a second-year. I think it was funnier then. Must be one of those that you outgrow, kind of like knock-knock jokes.  
  
Love, Neville  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
It will happen tonight. That sounds rather dramatic, doesn't it? Ron is mad at everyone in our room for not playing chess with him, so it'll be just me and Harry sneaking out tonight. I asked him how we were going to keep from getting caught, and he was very vague. I guess I'll find out tonight. I'm so excited I can barely write, and lights out isn't for another five hours! I think I'll take a nap so I won't be sleepy tonight. I wanted to start on "Notes from the Underground" this afternoon (borrowed from Blaise again) this afternoon. Kind of an appropriate title, isn't it? Sweet dreams, Diary!  
  
Love, Neville  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
McGonnegal is letting me and Harry skip our morning classes, and I have so much to tell that I'm going to write it all before I forget any of it.  
  
After lights out, Harry and I snuck to the statue and said the password. The mechanism is completely silent, so I was pretty surprised when the entire statue opened up to reveal a seemingly endless stairway. We stopped to rest about a hundred and fifty steps into it, and Harry showed me how we weren't to get caught: an invisibility cloak! He said it was his dad's and that Dumbledore gave it to him first year. Lots of things fell into place, like how he, Ron, and Hermione managed to sneak all over the school without getting caught. Except for that one time first year. I asked him about that, and he admitted that they'd left it on the roof when they got rid of the dragon. Ahah, I said, so there WAS a dragon. He told me the rest of the story as we climbed, about Voldemort tricking Hagrid into telling him how to get past the Cerberus we all found. I'd heard most of the stories from the Philosopher's Stone fiasco, but never from him. None of the stories I'd heard ever mentioned how Voldemort got past the protections. I asked Harry if he had tricked any of the other teachers into revealing their secrets. Harry said he'd never thought of that, but he didn't think so. But I digress.  
  
It took forever to climb all those stairs, but we ended up coming out the fireplace in Dumbledore's office. Fortunately, Dumbledore wasn't in it. Dumbledore's pet phoenix gave us a stern look, as if he knew we weren't supposed to be there, but didn't try to attract attention to us. Harry threw the cloak over our heads and led me out of the office. From the hallway window we could see that the entire front lawn of Hogwarts was covered with little tents and had hundreds of campfires. I almost had a heart attack when I saw that there were GIANTS patrolling the perimeter near the Forbidden Forest. I think Harry felt me shaking and he told me ever so casually that the giants are on our side. I guess one overhears plenty when one has an invisibility cloak. I got a little annoyed and asked if there were any other things he wasn't telling me. He glared at me, a look that was especially potent because his face was only a few inches from mine. I began apologizing profusely. I haven't many people I can talk about my parents with, and I didn't want Harry to be angry with me. I must have been babbling something to this effect when his angry look fell, leaving sad eyes behind. He said we needed to talk.  
  
We retired to the nearest boy's room and he told me everything. I mean EVERYTHING. The cave we're all hiding in is none other than the infamous Chamber of Secrets, but it's no longer dangerous since Harry killed the basilisk inside with Godric Gryffindor's sword second year. Sirius Black is innocent and Harry and Hermione helped him escape from the Dementors third year. Professor Moody was really a death eater in disguise who fixed the Tri-Wizard Tournament in an elaborate plot to deliver Harry to Voldemort. He needed Harry's blood for some kind of arcane resurrection ritual. The only reason Harry survived the encounter is that he and Voldemort have phoenix feather wands containing feathers from the same phoenix (the Headmaster's). Somehow he made Voldemort's wand spit out remnants of the last few spells it performed, including shadows of Cedric and his parents. I expected him to cry, but he didn't. Maybe he was cried out. I was crying like a baby and apologized again. I told him I never would have asked if I'd had any idea. He looked kind of exasperated and called me a goose. He said he was glad I knew because I understood what it was like. I told him that he was the bravest person I knew. He looked kind of embarrassed and replied that he didn't have to face his greatest fear three times a week plus detentions.  
  
Then he dropped the bombshell. Professor Snape was a Death Eater who has since changed sides and spies for Dumbledore. Diary, I still have no idea how I feel about that. My feelings are all tangled up. I wonder if he knows who destroyed my parents' minds. I wonder if he did it. As my mind worked to digest this piece of information, all the fear I ever felt toward Snape solidified into something else. Hate. Seething, simmering hatred. I think he's the first person I've ever really, truly hated. I mean kids say they hate broccoli or they hate it when it rains, but thinking of all the horrible things he's said to me over the years and what he might have done to my parents, I Hated Snape. Some of that must have shown on my face, because Harry put his hand on my shoulder. I was saying the most horrible things, and I knew deep down that it wasn't fair because he was really a spy for our side, but I finally had a face to put to all the imagined revenges against the person who took my parents from me. I don't think I was making any sense. I know I was crying and that Harry was trying to calm me down. I must have been making a great deal of noise, because the door burst open and Professor Snape ran in with his wand drawn. When he saw the two of us, he got that look on his face that he gets after I explode something in his class.  
  
He started to say something nasty to Harry, but I yelled and threw myself at him and started hitting him with both fists. He must have been pretty surprised because he wasn't able to stupefy me until after I got in a few good punches.  
  
I came to in the Headmaster's office. This time the Headmaster was in it, as were McGonnagal and Snape. I will never forget the looks on their faces. Suddenly getting caught out of bed first year seemed like very small potatoes indeed. Harry looked stricken. I tried to apologize for having passed out, but McGonnagal interrupted.  
  
"Potter says you figured out where all the upperclassmen were going. Is that correct?"  
  
I nodded, too terrified to speak.  
  
"He also says you found the statue passageway and password. Is this true?"  
  
I nodded again, calming myself enough to look at my interrogators. McGonnagal's face was livid. Professor Snape was holding a bloody handkerchief to his nose. Dumbledore's eyebrows were drawn together over his eyes and he was looking at me so intensely that I had to avert my eyes again. I stammered something to the affirmative.  
  
Snape banged his fist on the Headmaster's desk. "I've had enough of this," he said. "It's obvious that Longbottom is taking the blame to protect Potter. He doesn't have the brains to pull off a stunt like this, exactly like his idiot father, following around mindlessly-"  
  
McGonnagal and Dumbledore both made motions to protest, but I beat them to it.  
  
"Shut up about my parents!" I yelled at him. "Isn't it bad enough what you did to them, or do you need to torment me until I end up in the lifer's ward at St. Mungo's, too?"  
  
Snape blanched. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well, Mr. Longbottom, would you care to explain why you and Mr. Potter were wandering around up here in the middle of the night?"  
  
Still bitter from my outburst, I explained how I'd noticed the disappearances and mentioned them to Harry, how we wanted to help out with the war effort, and how difficult it had been to find out anything about what was going on.  
  
Dumbledore fixed me in that intense gaze again. "And what did you expect to accomplish by sneaking out of a secure location into a potentially dangerous place?"  
  
I hadn't really thought about it, but I didn't say that. I answered that anything was better than not knowing, which was the truth, even if I didn't know it until just then.  
  
Snape snorted at me, but I continued anyway. I told him about how low morale was and how completely useless everyone felt. I told him how classes were becoming a joke and how everyone was fighting.  
  
Dumbledore asked what I expected him to do about it, and I answered that he should give us students a purpose. Trying to shield the students from the war wasn't working. As far as I could tell, all keeping students in the dark (figuratively and literally) accomplished was feeding ennui and despair.  
  
Snape looked at me like I had no right to use the word "ennui." McGonnagal looked at Dumbledore and shrugged.  
  
"It's true that most of the students are performing far below their normal level," she gave me a tight smile, "with a few notable exceptions."  
  
My face flushed. If that was the kind of response that Harry normally gets, no wonder he sneaks out all the time! Harry was looking thoughtful.  
  
"I don't mean this as an insult, Professor, but why aren't more of the teachers out fighting Death Eaters? I figured that you being an animagus and Professor Flitwick being former dueling champion your skills would be needed on the front lines."  
  
"Potter, what we're doing here is just as, if not more important than fighting," McGonnagal snapped. "War or no, it is our job to prepare you for the real world. As Longbottom pointed out, the real world has changed, but our responsibility to you has not. Besides, who is to say that a Wizard who is killed in the line of duty has given the world a greater gift than an educator who teaches students to ask questions rather than to complacently swallow any hateful piece of propaganda that comes their way?"  
  
"Hear, hear," murmured Dumbledore.  
  
McGonnagal seemed somewhat embarrassed. "Well, if you two haven't any more questions, I shall take you back to your beds. You will both serve detention with me tomorrow evening, but I will excuse you from your morning classes."  
  
Harry and I managed to hide our gleeful expressions as she ushered us toward the door. I looked back at Professor Snape and noticed that his nose had stopped bleeding but was swollen and uneven. I must have broken it. He snapped at me when he saw me staring, but I just told him that I was glad he made it back to Hogwarts safely and asked if he'd be teaching potions again. He looked like he was about to growl at me again, but McGonnagal yelled at me to come along, so I did.  
  
I think this is the longest entry I've ever written; nearly twenty pages (and with me writing small, too!), but the details of what I heard and saw tonight feel like they've been carved into my brain with a chisel. Even as I write this, I keep picturing the stars that I saw over the army camp. That was the first time I'd seen the sky in nearly two months. I hear on the radio that our tidy little world is being slowly transformed to chaos. I hear the approaching thunder that threatens to destroy us. I feel the suffering of the oppressed. And yet, when I saw the stars tonight, I somehow knew that everything will be changing for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, and that peace and tranquility will return once more. Diary, I'm so happy. I've found hope.  
  
Love, Neville  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
Compared to today, last night seem especially surreal. I have very little to report. Frank is giving me the cold shoulder (branch?) because in my excitement I forgot to water him yesterday. I've agreed to let Ron teach me to play chess. He taught me how to set up the board and gave me notes for how the pieces move. The number of moves one can make boggles my mind. Then again, if I only had one option I'd be checkmated. Classes were dull and the students were listless. "Notes From the Underground" is not at all what I expected. It's the story of a really horrible man who sits in a squalid little room all day and thinks. In my mind's eye, I picture Professor Snape in dirty rags ranting and swilling vodka. I know, I know. I'm a horrible person. But I'm nowhere near as upset as I was last night. I don't think I hate him anymore. I certainly don't like him, but I don't hate him. Detention was probably the highlight of my day. Instead of giving us busywork, McGonnagal had break up the student body into groups for "rotational miscellaneous duties," which probably means that we are going to be helping soon! Well, I've got a chess lesson with Ron in a few minutes, so I'd better finish up.  
  
Love, Neville  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
News from the outside world is grim. WNN reports that the rising violence against muggleborns and squibs has forced the secret service to begin moving them all to internment camps in the country for their protection. I shudder to think of the "protection" Death Eaters will afford muggleborns and squibs. They've already silenced anyone who dared to speak against the interim Ministry in the newspapers. I'm afraid it's only a matter of time before they'll catch up with WNN. Hermione is telling anyone who will listen about how the exact same thing happened in the Forties, and that most people who were put into those camps were killed. As you can imagine, it's not the most comforting thing to say to people who haven't heard from their families for two months, so she's persona non grata for the time being. The worse the news from outside gets, the less productive classes are. Everyone's minds are miles away, even the professors. Teaching me chess has become a mania for Ron. Any time that I'm not doing homework is time to teach Neville strategy time. Most times I let him talk me into it, but less and less of what he's teaching me is sticking in my mind. Then he yells at me until I remember. Who needs Professor Snape back when I've got Ron Weasley? So I hope you understand why I haven't been writing in you so much as of late. Besides, it's not as if I have much of note to say. I'm getting impatient. I almost worked up my nerve to ask McGonnagal when we'll be starting our "rotational miscellaneous duties," but she looked so exhausted that I put off asking again. Do Professors sleep?  
  
Love, Neville /i  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A loud thud followed by a groan from the next room jolted Scully back into the present. So Mulder had decided to join the land of the living at last. He would have to do it when she was in the middle of an engrossing book. The noise had also roused Flamel's owl from his nap, and he was ruffling his newly dried feathers indignantly. Scully gave a cursory knock on Mulder's door before entering. She found him on the floor, tangled in bedclothes.  
  
"Mulder?"  
  
He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned.  
  
"So the creature lives," she remarked, with forced jocularity. Even to her ears it sounded catty.  
  
He groaned again and groped around for something soft with which to cover his eyes and ears. In doing so, he managed to knock a beer bottle off the nightstand. It hit his forehead with a ringing thunk. He shot upright and cursed.  
  
Scully ran her index finger lightly over the resultant bump and sighed. "I'm going to get some ice for this. In the meantime, see if you can't drag yourself into my room. There's a message waiting for you on my desk."  
  
She slammed the door a little harder than was strictly necessary, and Mulder took this as a sign that she was not pleased. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and wandered into her room. Thank goodness it wasn't another glaringly sunny. He read the letter that lay open on the desk. So Scully knew that he had been with Dumbledore and Flamel the night before. Then why was she in such a bad mood? His eyes traveled around her room, taking in the new robe that hung next to Cho's in the closet, the towel at the foot of the bed she'd used to dry her hair, the box that looked just the right size for a wand, the pile of books on the nightstand, and finally, the open book that lay next to her crumpled pillow.  
  
Oops. He'd inadvertently broken Scully rule number one: not to disturb her when she was reading.  
  
He carefully replaced her bookmark before examining the cover. So this was the book Dumbledore had recommended so strongly. Wasn't it luck that Scully picked it up? He opened the book and began to read.  
  
"Mulder, you're reading my book."  
  
He hadn't even heard her come in. She held out a plastic bag of ice, for which he relinquished control of the book. He sighed as the ice began to numb the throbbing bruise.  
  
"Thanks, Scully." Mulder gestured toward the wand box. "I take it last night was a success?"  
  
An interesting mix of emotions played across her features before she answered with a simple "Yes."  
  
Mulder made himself comfortable on the bed, since this was likely to be a long story.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Huge thanks to my beloved beta, Crystal O. Grapher, who is now Pottering around England. I'm so jealous!  
  
Ozma: I'm glad you were also amused by Scully beating the guys at their own chivalric game. More of "My Friend Harry" is forthcoming. If I don't write the complete text of MFH for this fic, I think I'll flesh it out as a separate piece (not "A Separate Peace"). Your reviews always make me giggle fiendishly!  
  
Anonymous: I am honored by your comment. Some great poetry and tunes were written by Anonymous, as I'm sure you know!  
  
Ariana Deralte: I edited chapter 13 and changed a bit of Snape's Ron impression. If anything, he's even more "gosh o' golly" and earnest now. That was such fun to write! Thank you for asking about why the teachers weren't out fighting evil. It's a question I needed to address (and hopefully answered to your satisfaction in this chapter). Thank you for reviewing and keeping me on my toes!  
  
Bonny913: blushes By the time I post a chapter, I'm so sick of seeing my words on the page that I don't always proof myself consistently. I do have a beta, though part-time. I usually post the fixed chapters during the week before the next chapter comes out. As I am a firm believer that too many chefs make for really savory soups, your beta comments, smackings&whackings, and grammar!gollums are welcome, encouraged, and will be humbly and grovellingly thanked!  
  
Ryven: I'm trying to incorporate bits from Hitler's final solution, Pol Pot's indiscriminate terror, and (of course) some elements of the current strife in the Middle East. It is very hard to lighten such heavy stuff, but I think Neville's made of stronger stuff than even I give him credit for. He keeps surprising me!  
  
Gotsnape: I'm so glad you like how Mulder and Scully play off one another! It's quite fun for me to separate Scully from Mulder (for dramatic purposes) just to see what they do when left to their own devices. We know Mulder's tendency to go off on crusades from the show, but we rarely get to see what Scully does (other than sit at home and answer her cell phone). It is for such wonderings that fanfic was invented! I hope you are enjoying the rest of the story. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
StarryNight: I haven't even decided if I'm going to pair Scully with anyone for this fic. I know Percy, Snape, and Mulder are all interested, but it feels like Pygmalion in that none of the guys deserve the girl just yet. Maybe she'll turn them all down so Mulder and Snape must turn to one another for comfort… just kidding! :D  
  
Miriam: Wow, what a wonderful review! Scully sits next to Susan Ivanova (Babylon5) my favorite female characters on television. She's smart, she takes no nonsense, and she has suffered a great deal without losing her desire to fight the good fight. Regarding romance, I'm torn. I like writing it, but I couldn't stand for it to be central to the plot. I'm looking forward to writing future Snape/Scully interactions, that's for sure. I must compliment you on an excellent job of reading this fic critically (although it makes me feel bad about not proofing well:). Like the concentration camps in Anne Frank, the internment camps started out as an ominous idea and are steadily gaining power as symbols of terror. (shudders) But thank you for your review. Oh yes, and Alphonse will be coming back someday… 


	15. Grand Pause

Title: Cloak and Wand  
  
Author: Mundungus42  
  
Email: mundungus42@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: Self-imposed PG13. Minor anatomical rudeness and the occasional naughty word, but nothing too terrible.  
  
Category: Harry Potter/X-Files Crossover  
  
Spoilers: X-Files up to but not including the movie (seasons 1-5), Harry Potter through Goblet of Fire.  
  
Disclaimer: Thee capeetalist peegs force me to say none of eet ees mine. VIVA REVOLUTION!  
  
Last Chapter's Title Definition: Polyphony: Musical texture characterized by the presence of more than one independent melodic line.  
  
Author's Note: Ok, enough of "My Friend Harry" for the time being. I've decided that it will take over this fic if I let it, and it's already come dangerously close. I'm going to post it as a standalone fic once I've finished up C&W. I prostrate myself for your forgiveness for the uber- delay in getting this out. I don't know how frequently I'll be able to update, but this fic will be finished.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Fifteenth, or A Spoonful of Angst  
  
Having sent Flamel's owl back with the specifics for their Sunday brunch, Mulder and Scully discussed their experiences of the previous night. They couldn't have been more different. Scully provided detailed descriptions of her experiences of Diagon Alley, and made some insightful comparisons between Magical and early Nineteenth Century societies. Mulder shook his head. He could only imagine his fiercely independent partner dealing with the social constraints. Sure, she probably pulled it off with grace and style, but it probably drove her nuts.  
  
When his turn came to relate his evening, he glossed over his own contributions to the conversation, choosing to focus on the conclusions that he, Flamel and Dumbledore had drawn. Specifically, that the extraterrestrials were probably playing Wizards and Muggles against one another to destroy the global protections left by the Alephi. Scully offered a few insightful questions, but was eventually satisfied with their conclusions.  
  
"There are still a few things I don't understand," she remarked after a thoughtful silence. "Foremost, their reasons for trying to colonize our planet in the first place. We've seen the caustic reaction of their blood to our atmosphere. They've already lost ships to the Alephi's wards, lost individuals in reconnaissance, and they're likely to suffer immense casualties in the event of war. What's in it for them?"  
  
"No idea. Maybe humanity hasn't cornered the market on pigheadedness."  
  
"Seriously, Mulder."  
  
"What do you want me to say? They're obviously an intelligent race that places a great deal of importance on subtlety and observation. They're cautious and stick to protocol. They obviously have something important invested in our planet. Something important enough for them to bother with the both the natives and ancient extraterrestrial protection. Aside from that, there are too many other variables to say anything definite."  
  
"So it could be anything."  
  
"They could be running out of energy sources or space on their home planet. Or maybe they're on some kind of religious crusade to drive the infidel humans from their sacred planet." He noticed an odd look on Scully's face. "Sorry, no offense intended. Unless Nicholas has some particularly telling information, we're only marginally better off than we were before discovering magic. At least then we felt we were able to do things." The odd look was still on Scully's face. "What is it?"  
  
"Mulder, what you said about a crusade to drive the humans from the holy land-"  
  
"I meant as a metaphor. As in they prized something about our planet that wasn't quantifiable in material terms."  
  
"That's not the aspect of the metaphor I meant. I mean, what if they came here first? Before the Alephi, I mean. And before human civilization."  
  
Mulder shrugged. "It's a possibility. We can talk to Albus and Nicholas about it tomorrow at tea. Today I just want my head to stop pounding and maybe get some more reading done. How close are you to the end of 'My Friend Harry?'"  
  
"I iwas/i about two-thirds of the way through."  
  
"I see. And will you be trying any spells with your new wand today?"  
  
"That's what I probably should be doing now, but-"  
  
"In that case, I'll be a good partner and remove your distraction." Mulder grabbed "My Friend Harry" and ducked into his room, before Scully had the chance to protest.  
  
"Mulder!"  
  
As exasperating as it was to have her reading interrupted, Mulder was probably right. She should be working with her new wand. Fortunately, Mulder's officiousness had presented her with her first attempt at magical problem solving. She consulted volume one of the Goshawk book of spells for an unlocking spell before settling on a likely candidate. After practicing the pronunciation a few times, she took her wand out of its box. It greeted with a pleasant wave of warmth. She warmed up with a few quick swish-and-flicks, and practiced the new charm. Having practiced on the bathroom door and her own window, she decided to see if the waterproofing spells on magical books were worth their salt. She stuck her head out the window. The rain hitting her face was a bit distracting, and she had to work a little harder to bring the image of her book into her mind before flicking her wand at the next-door window and whispering the spells in rapid succession. "iAlohamora! Accio!/i"  
  
The window unlocked and flung itself open. She was rewarded with an indignant "Hey!" as "My Friend Harry" zipped into her outstretched hand. That felt. different. It was much easier to summon objects with her own wand. Not surprising, really. There was none of the resistance that she'd felt from Severus's wand. Some things were the same, like the warm rush of power from her mind to her wand, but overall, she felt connected to the wand in a way she couldn't explain. It felt as if it should have been there all along.  
  
Now, now. A wand is a magical tool. An implement. Nothing more. But if that was true, why was there a lump in her throat?  
  
She had just enough time to close the window quickly and wipe the lingering raidrops off her cheeks before the door between their rooms opened. She clasped the book behind her back and affected boredom. Mulder had on his bad-cop face, and she successfully suppressed a giggle. She cleared her throat and lifted an eyebrow questioningly.  
  
"Did you need something, Mulder?"  
  
"Hand it over."  
  
She held out her wand, handle first. "Certainly, though I have no idea what you'll be able to do with it."  
  
He didn't take it. "The book, Scully."  
  
She put on a mock-confused look, then grabbed a red and gold bound book from the pile on her nightstand. "I tried to give this to you last night, but you were out cold."  
  
Mulder's eyes lit up. "You found 'Fantastic Beasts!'" He turned down the corners of his mouth again, though there was a definite gleam in his eye. "But that's not what I mean, Scully."  
  
"I don't understand, Mulder." She sidled over to the bed, hoping to hide the book under the pillows. "Exactly what are you accusing me of?"  
  
"It is most provoking," Mulder pronounced solemnly, "when one's partner does exactly what you tell her to."  
  
She managed to shove the book under the pillows and stretch herself over them in what she hoped was a casual way. "Yes, I've been working on an unlocking charm. I thought it would prove useful in the field."  
  
Mulder sat down beside her on the bed. "Have you learned any self-defense charms?"  
  
"Other than the summoning charm and the full body bind, not really."  
  
"Then you'd have no magical way to defend yourself against insidious tickle attacks?" He began moving toward her slowly, insinuatingly.  
  
"Tickle attack? No. No! Mulder, don't you dare!" She scrambled away from him and slid off the end of the bed. "You know I hate being tickled!"  
  
He advanced toward her, his fingers wiggling ominously.  
  
Scully felt her face flush. As the youngest girl and extremely ticklish, she'd been tickled into submission more times than she'd care to admit. Bill wasn't even ticklish at all. It was an advantage she'd never forgiven him for pressing. She brandished her wand at her partner and planted her feet resolutely. "Mulder, if you try to tickle me, you'll be very, very sorry."  
  
This seemed to encourage him more. He took two quick steps to close the distance between them and was about to launch a full-scale assault on her stomach when she flicked her wand at him. iPetrificus totalus!"/i  
  
Mulder froze. At first Scully thought it was because he was shocked to see her cast magic. When he fell woodenly to the floor, she belatedly realized that it was because the spell had worked. Mulder's eyes were rolling around in panic and he was making strange noises in his throat. Her first impulse was to take the spell off, but a nasty voice in the back of her head said that he deserved to know what it was like. It couldn't possible be worse than painful paroxysms of tickle-induced laughter. At least he could breathe.  
  
She shook herself out of her amazement at the results of her spell and put her hands on her hips. "Mulder, just relax. I'll take the body bind off you in a minute, but I want to see what it did to you."  
  
The panicked look was quickly replaced by one of outrage.  
  
Scully glared at him. "For goodness sakes, Mulder! Do you really think I'd put a dangerous spell on you? This is a spell that they teach to eleven- year-olds. The purpose of my putting it on you was solely to keep you from tickling me. Now I want to see, from a medical doctor's perspective, what this spell did to you. Blink once for yes, two for no." He exhaled loudly through his nose and closed his eyes. Good. He wasn't fighting it. The Goshawk book said that if the victim tried to fight the curse, he or she would be in for sore muscles when the spell was removed.  
  
She knelt down beside him and began feeling his muscles and taking inventory of which were locked and which were still able to move. He was unable to speak, but he still had full control of the muscles around his larynx, eyes and forehead. The shoulders, neck, back and arms were completely stiff, but his heart was still obviously beating. On an impulse, she pressed her ear to his stomach to listen for activity. His stomach greeted her with a loud gurgle. So the digestive track was still running smoothly, or as smoothly as could be expected after a night of debauchery and a morning with no breakfast. She wondered if the external terminus of the alimentary canal was paralyzed or not, but Mulder would be embarassed, so the question remained unasked. When Scully pressed her ear just below his navel to check his abdominal muscles and to listen for bowel noises, she noticed another cause for concern. It seemed that the Petrificus wasn't such an innocent little spell after all. With ithat/i particular set of muscles locked in place for an extended period of time, there was danger of bladder and kidney damage, not to mention the possibility of infection. Or maybe that particular muscle contraction had another cause entirely. She wasn't about to ask. Well, onward and downwards. After attempting to palpitate his quadriceps, which were as unnaturally stiff as the rest of his external muscles, she decided there was little else to be gleaned without being overly intrusive.  
  
She stood briskly and waved her wand over him. i"Finite incantem."/i  
  
Mulder's entire body seemed to sag further into the floor. He took a few deep breaths before hoisting himself dramatically into a sitting position against the end of the bed.  
  
Scully held out her hands to help him stand up, but he waved them away and staggered dramatically to his feet. She managed to keep from rolling her eyes. If he didn't stop the invalid act, he was going to earn himself a pillow upside the noggin. She began to suspect something was really wrong when he grabbed "Fantastic Beasts" and made a beeline for the next room without even looking at her.  
  
"Mulder, wait."  
  
He spun to look at her with a venomous glare. "What, do you want to use me as a lab rat for more of your spells?"  
  
"Mulder, I told you, I didn't want to be tickled, I waved my wand in your face, and you still came at me. What did you expect me to do?"  
  
"You should never cast magic on me without my permission."  
  
"You should never tickle me without my permission."  
  
"That's not the same thing."  
  
"How can you say that? It's exactly the same thing!"  
  
"You can't equate a petrifying curse to tickling."  
  
"Tickling is bullying, Mulder."  
  
"Tickling is harmless! What are you so upset about?"  
  
"Tickling is NOT harmless! It's horrible! It's like having a plastic bag over your head, you can't inhale, you can't scream, your spasming diaphragm and abdominal muscles are working against every voluntary order your brain sends to breathe. Your sides hurt, you can't stand, and if the tickling continues, you pass out." Scully was vaguely aware that she was raising her voice. "You had to be frozen in place for thirty seconds, and you somehow think that's worse?"  
  
"Scully, it's not about which is worse physically!" Mulder's cheeks were starting to get red. "It's about taking an unfair advantage over someone else."  
  
Was he trying to be dense? "That's exactly what I'm upset about, Mulder! You don't see being nearly a foot taller, 60 pounds heavier and unticklish as having an 'unfair advantage' over me?"  
  
"But there are ways that you can defend yourself against a much larger person. You took those extra self-defense classes for Christ's sake-"  
  
"-so you'd rather be kicked in the shin and punched in the stomach than petrified?"  
  
"That's not the point Scully, and you know it!"  
  
Scully threw up her hands in exasperation. "Do I? I didn't realize that temper tantrums had points? Enlighten me, Mulder. What is your point?"  
  
"The point is that I can't possibly defend myself against magic, that's what!"  
  
"So?"  
  
"SO?"  
  
"Mulder, you're not being rational. We don't know how to defend ourselves against any half the unexplained phenomena we encounter. And there's only so much self-defense can accomplish. Magic has been in the world a long time, and won't just stop because we can't defend ourselves against it."  
  
"But it's different for you! You can do something about it!"  
  
Scully snorted. "I can do four spells. That's not much defense against a fully-trained witch or wizard. And what if we're facing off with someone dangerous? You'll never have the possibility of doing magic interfering with your split-second decisions. You'll have your gun. You won't have to decide between paralyzing them or knocking them out."  
  
"I can't carry a gun in this country. You can't possibly understand how helpless I feel."  
  
She didn't dignify that with a response. "Well, I guess you're just going to have to depend on me to cover your back, the same way I've had to depend on you for the past five years."  
  
"That's not fair, Scully. I'm the senior agent. I'm the one with the field experience-"  
  
He cut off abruptly at the look on her face.  
  
"So I've learned nothing about field work in the past five years?"  
  
He flushed. "That's not what I said. Don't put words into my mouth. But in the established dynamics of our partnership, you lead in the lab, and I lead in the field."  
  
She was silent a moment. "I never realized how little you depend on me in the field."  
  
Shit. That wasn't what he meant to say. "Scully-"  
  
She waved her hand dismissively and continued in an irritatingly brisk manner. "Then isn't it about time that I started pulling my weight in the back-watching department?"  
  
"Scully, I didn't mean that. What I meant was-"  
  
"It's perfectly evident what you meant, Mulder." A flare of anger broke through her façade, but vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I think this conversation is over." She handed him "My Friend Harry" in what otherwise would have been a conciliatory gesture. In this case, it was a dismissal. She threw on her coat and shoved her wand into the pocket with a little more force than was strictly necessary.  
  
He was quickly running out of chances to rectify the situation. "Scully, I'm sorry."  
  
She gave him a bland look. "Really? And would this be an apology for attacking me, being grossly insensitive, or insinuating that I'm an incompetent field agent?"  
  
He was starting to get angry again. "What do you want me to say, Scully?"  
  
"I don't want you to isay/i anything."  
  
"You've overreacted, put words into my mouth, and now you expect me to read your mind? Divination is your department, not mine."  
  
"Mulder, this isn't about reading my mind."  
  
"What is it about, then? Asserting your independence?"  
  
She ignored the bait. "It's about our partnership, Mulder." She shook her head. "But you're obviously in no fit state to discuss it, and frankly, neither am I." Scully grabbed her briefcase and umbrella. "I'm going to the lab for a while."  
  
"But it's Saturday!"  
  
"I'm well aware of that, Mulder."  
  
He blinked at the coldness in her tone, and gave a one-armed shrug. "I had hoped we could try the British Museum again today and maybe find out a little more about the items that were stolen in the process."  
  
"That sounds like field work to me, Mulder, and therefore your department. I would have thought you'd appreciate my reverting to 'lab mouse' type, especially after the trauma you suffered at my hands this morning." She swept out the door with an air of scorn that would have done Severus proud.  
  
Mulder was at a complete loss for words. He settled for an exasperated sigh. Stupid. He was officially stupid. An inappropriate image of the old "I've fallen and I can't get up" commercial sprang to mind unbidden, only this time, the old lady on the floor exclaimed proudly to him, "You're talking and you can't shut up!"  
  
He did depend on her in the field. He idid/i. And he more than depended on her in the lab, as much as dead weight can depend on anything keeping it afloat. She iknew/i that! So he didn't always say it, but it was a given. She had willfully misunderstood him today. That was what had happened. And her little snit wasn't going to stop him from enjoying himself at the museum.  
  
He knew he was being unfair as soon as the words entered his mind. Scully didn't have snits. Hell, before this trip he couldn't remember the last time she had showed visible emotion. But already she'd blown up a vase of flowers when he teased her and petrified him when he tickled her. Being a witch didn't agree with her temper, that's for sure. But she'd looked so proud, downright mischievous when she'd managed to steal back her book. She hadn't looked that carefree since before her sister died. And, of course, Emily.  
  
He instantly regretted making a big deal out of being petrified. Of course, as the little psychologist in his brain pointed out, it was probably good for her to vent her frustrations. Lord knows she'd had more than her share this trip.  
  
He glanced at the book she'd put into his hand. What better way to understand what she was going through than by better understanding the world into which they'd both been thrust? He lay down on Scully's bed and began to read.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Scully was still seething when she arrived at the Brisbin Institute. The rain wasn't helping her mood at all, especially when the cabbie managed to soak her trousers from the knees down as he sped off through a deep puddle. She was glad she hadn't bothered with a suit today. It would have been ruined. She glanced at the sky for any sign of the rain letting up and encountered a uniformly dark sky. It reflected her mood perfectly.  
  
She squelched through the cavernous lobby in her sodden shoes and had the security guard page Cho. It was then that an unwelcome thought hit her. If Cho was anything like the lab assistants that she'd worked with in med school, weekends were sacrosanct. She had no idea how to find the freezer where Cho had stored the samples. Mentally cursing her own hastiness and loss of temper, she was about to leave when the phone rang at the security desk and the guard handed it to her.  
  
"Hello, Cho? It's Dana."  
  
"Dana? What on earth is wrong with you, coming in to work on a Saturday! And you call yourself a consultant?"  
  
"You should talk!"  
  
"Okay, okay. I normally spend Saturdays reading, but I'm intrigued by this investigation and wanted to have a nice surprise for you on Monday. Technically, this isn't work for me; it's a diversion. What's your excuse?"  
  
"The rosy walls were closing in on me. Am I interrupting anything?"  
  
"Nah. I've been purifying the corrosive compound all morning and I was about to run a mass spec on it. Have you ever done chromatography?"  
  
"No, but I'm familiar with the process."  
  
"Good. We'll probably be doing that this afternoon. I've got no idea what we'll find, so I figured those methods would be the best for narrowing down what kind of compounds were used."  
  
"And possibly, what kind of organism is the culprit."  
  
"Do you really think an animal could have done it?"  
  
"Well, let's just say I've seen stranger things. If anything, gas chromatography will be the most efficient way to directly analyze anything organic. We won't even need a solvent."  
  
"Yes, but I still want to run mass spec at least on whatever caused those eaten away bits."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of stopping you. Where should I meet you?"  
  
"Take the elevator to the fifth floor. Take a right, and go to the end of the hall. Go through the glass doors on your right. I'm in lab 560. Ring the bell and I'll let you in. Your badge doesn't exactly give you access to the area, but there's hardly anyone in today. If anyone gives you a hard time, have them find me."  
  
"I'll be up shortly."  
  
"See you soon!"  
  
Scully smiled to herself as she handed the receiver back to the guard. Cho was working in one of the high-security labs. She had taken the initiative on the investigation, hadn't she? This was going to be a great deal more pleasant, not to mention educational, than her experiences with forensics labs at home. In her experience, forensics labs, like law enforcement officials, were not all created equal. More often than not, she'd end up banned from the lab for grilling the lab supervisor on little things dismissed as 'natural variation' or 'incidental damage.' She knew, intellectually at least, that not every town had the resources that the Bureau did, she just didn't particularly care to be reminded of the fact when people's lives depended on haste and accuracy. But to be personally involved in the forensics investigation under the watchful eye of the knowledgable Dr. Wei in a state-of-the-art facility; that was a different story.  
  
She also hoped for a fair amount of girl-talk over lunch.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Mulder had a feeling that the bad karma he accrued over the past few days was coming back to haunt him with a vengeance when the phone rang at a particularly dramatic juncture in "My Friend Harry." With a groan, he dog- eared his page in "My Friend Harry" and answered the phone.  
  
"Mulder."  
  
"Mulder, it's Skinner. Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to get hold for you for the last three days."  
  
Oops. He knew there was something he'd forgotten to do. Well, he thought with a smirk, he and Scully were as good as on vacation from the Bureau; it's not as if they were required to check in. "Is anything the matter, sir?"  
  
"No, everything's fine. I was just wondering how your case was going."  
  
Mulder immediately knew something was up. Skinner wouldn't call him on a weekend just to make small talk. "Nothing out of the ordinary sir, at least for one of our cases. Scully's gone in today to finish up the forensic investigation with Dr. Wei, and I'm doing some research."  
  
"I thought the Bristbin Institute had its own forensics experts. Why is Scully doing it herself?"  
  
Mulder didn't give voice to his private thought that something was rotten at the Brisbin Institute, and settled for a noncommittal answer. "She's found a kindred spirit and an apt pupil in Dr. Wei. She even volunteered to assist Scully on the autopsy."  
  
"Since when do you two bring in outside help on a top secret investigation?" Skinner's voice had a hard edge.  
  
"Well, sir," he began in a reasonable tone of voice, "Dr. Wei isn't exactly 'outside' help. Her father is Liangru Chang, the man who requested our help, and she does work at the Institute. Besides, she and Scully have a lot in common." You have no idea how much, he added mentally.  
  
"What's the real reason, Mulder?"  
  
"Well, sir, it's not like there's any kind of protocol for this investigation, since we're not officially representing the Bureau. Besides, having an entertainment budget has allowed us to explore our own interests and take the investigation at a more leisurely pace."  
  
"Which is why you're sitting around in the hotel room and your partner is in the lab."  
  
That was a little too close to home. "For your information, isir,/i I was just on my way out the door to do some research at the British Museum."  
  
"What does the British Museum have to do with your murder investigation?"  
  
Two, four, six, eight, time to quickly obfuscate. "There's an excellent library. I needed to do some research on-" he thought of the pictures from the file- "spider cults of South America."  
  
"Is that so?" Good. Skinner sounded bored. "Well don't let me keep you."  
  
"Is there anything else you wanted, sir?" After a pregnant pause, Skinner spoke. "You haven't noticed anything strange about the Brisbin Institute, have you?"  
  
"Well, you can get blood pudding in the cafeteria."  
  
"For Christ's sake, I'm being serious, Mulder!"  
  
"So am I. Have you ever seen commercially produced spotted dick?"  
  
"Mulder, just promise me you'll be careful. I don't want you tilting at windmills-"  
  
"Too late for that, sir."  
  
"-but don't cross anyone there. You never know who's standing in the shadows behind them."  
  
The line went dead.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
End Notes: I'm a bum, I know. But I want to thank Alice Willoughby and my beta-reader Crystal O. Grapher for encouraging me to get the lead out. You ladies are incredible. 


	16. Subito

Title: Cloak and Wand

Author: Mundungus42

Email: PG13

Category: Harry Potter/X-Files Crossover

Spoilers: X-Files up to but not including the movie (seasons 1-5), Harry Potter through Goblet of Fire.

Disclaimer:

With a willow willow wailey,

I enscribe this story gaily,

Shall I proclaim to own it? Oh!

I must say nonny nonny no!

Last Chapter's Title Definition:

Grande Pause. Self explanatory. blush

Author's Note: More plot! More plot!

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Scully knew that mass spectrometers were useful for characterizing molecules, but that was as far as it went. Fortunately Cho knew a great deal more, and was keen to share. Most of Cho's lecture had penetrated, though Scully had to force herself to concentrate. It was amazing to her that she was being encouraged to play with a machine that was worth over her yearly income.

Forty minutes later, they had results. Scully tried to hide her disappointment in the simple black and white graph that was produced.

"I'm hoping that this means something to you."

Cho shrugged. "Well, yes and no. This narrows it down to being one of about a gazillion proteins. The samples we took had a really impressive variety of nonhuman compounds- mostly enzymes and molecules too small to do much with. I managed to spin out the largest of the molecules, which is this peak here, at 27 minutes on the graph, and this is the one we're analyzing. This just confirms what I found before. We're looking for a large protein. The last step is doing MADLI on this, which will give us the sequence and a better idea of its structure."

Scully grinned. This was familiar territory. Having the sequence of the corrosive substance would allow them to search thousands of online databases for sequence and structural homology, potentially revealing the substance's source.

"Should I go fire up a workstation then?"

"Sure, and check your e-mail while you're at it. I'll have the sequence for you in a few minutes."

Scully perused recent headlines while Cho buzzed around another machine. Each was so engrossed in her task that neither noticed the pale face watching them from the window in the laboratory door.

Scully was halfway through an article on the quipu of the Inca when an acrid chemical odor drifted past.

"What is that smell?"

Cho printed out a sheet of paper, got up from the machine and sniffed the air. "That's odd. Those are the rope samples that we took from the body. They've been soaking up solvent for the past hour. But they're in the hood. We shouldn't be smelling them if the hood's fan is working properly."

She handed Scully the sheet of paper, which was half full of letters. "Dana, I'd like you to meet our mystery protein. If you can start searching for matches, I'm going to go see if I can't improve the air quality."

While Scully typed, Cho examined one of two fume hoods that ran alongside the lab benches. She pulled a large bottle from the cabinet below the working space and attempted to tighten the cap. Finding that it was already as tight as it could be, she turned on the second fume hood and placed the soaking samples inside.

After calling maintenance to let them know about the malfunctioning fume hood, she returned to Scully, who was waiting for results.

"It's amazing," said Scully. "You managed to get the sequence from our samples in about fifteen minutes, and it takes these databases twice as long to analyze it."

"Well," said Cho as she pulled up a chair next to Scully, "These sites are written and maintained _pro bono_. You get what you pay for, I suppose."

While the computer ground away at the analysis, Scully filled in Cho on the events of the previous night, which already seemed to be part of another world. To be fair, as Cho had pointed out, they had been.

Cho had been most amused by Snape's disguise as Percy's brother.

"That Gryffindor hothead!" she exclaimed. "I used to play against him in quidditch, and he plays dirtier than the Slytherins! Even worse, because the Slytherins don't have the gall to play the injured party when the referee catches them in the act. I'll bet Snape hated every second."

"He did. And incidentally, you're going to have to explain to me the significance of the school houses. Severus tried, but he seems a bit biased."

"That's putting it mildly. Snape's the Head of Slytherin, and favors his house almost as much as the Gryffindor head of house does her own. The other two houses are Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, which is by far the best house."

"And the one you were in."

Cho pretended to blush. "Does it show? But seriously, traditions says that Ravenclaws are wise, Hufflepuffs are loyal, Gryffindors are brave, and Slytherins are cunning, but it's a fairly superficial designation, really. Like any school with an inter-house competition, the whole idea is to encourage kids to obey the rules and participate in classes."

"Severus seemed to think that your house brands you for life."

"Well, it did in his case, didn't it? He came back to be head of his old house. And he did manage to fall in with a bad crowd. I didn't know until after the War just how bad."

Scully nodded, but made no comment.

Cho correctly interpreted her polite silence. "How much do you know about the War, anyway?"

"Not very much. I'm a little over halfway through 'My Friend Harry,' but have no idea how it ends. Seeing as we're having this conversation now, I'm assuming Dumbledore and company were victorious."

Cho smiled. "Astute deduction, Dr. Scully. Voldemort was defeated about a year and a half ago. The Magical Community of Britain is still rebuilding, but we're all very optimistic and glad that the damage wasn't greater."

"Since I doubt I'll ever get the book back from my partner, I'm curious to know why Voldemort was so difficult to defeat. It's obvious that he was a very powerful wizard, but surely there were others who were equally powerful."

"As powerful, yes," said Cho thoughtfully, "But Voldemort also had a great gift for finding people's weaknesses. The wizarding world is far from perfect, and any he would wedge himself and his followers into every fault he could find. The shrink would probably call him a sociopath."

Scully smiled at Cho's new epithet for Mulder and filed it for later use.

"But his skill at spreading enmity was only the political problem," Cho continued. "The greatest physical challenge we faced was the fact that Voldemort managed to make himself into a kind of spirit parasite, similar to a ghost, only with the ability to take over living bodies."

"Sounds eerily similar to a case Mulder and I investigated about a year ago. How did they manage to defeat him?"

"Immediately after killing his body, no mean feat, by the way, they managed to trap his spirit in a lower life form. A flobberworm, to be exact."

Scully wished she'd looked through Mulder's copy of _Fantastic Beasts_. "What's a flobberworm?"

"It's big brown worm that secretes emulsifier. Other than that, they are notable for being pretty much immortal, unless you feed them too much lettuce, as we discovered my fourth year."

"So where is this flobberworm?"

"Nobody knows. Well, I assume Dumbledore knows, but most people think the secret died with him."

Further questions were precluded by a soft "ping," indicating that their sequence had been analyzed.

Eagerly, Cho and Scully examined the screen.

"Our protein has 63 homology with known protein sequences," said Cho, eyes alight. "Do you know what this means?"

"We're looking at a completely new molecule?"

"Exactly! With only 63 homology, we may even be looking at a new family of molecules."

"40 identity with a molecule called TXP5. I'll look that up," Scully's cheeks were flushed. This was the sort of chase she savored.

"I'll take sphingomyelinase D, which is a 37, match" said Cho, clearly as excited as Scully.

Cho turned on another computer, and began typing furiously. The phone on the wall behind Scully's desk rang. She picked it up, hesitantly.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Liangru Chang. Is Cho Wei available?"

"Liangru, this is Dana Scully, and I'm with Cho."

"Dr. Scully! How delightful to speak with you again!" His laugh was nearly as infectious over the phone as it was in person. "I was hoping to tempt Cho to tea when she finished with her experiments. Would you like to come as well?"

Scully glanced at the clock. It was nearly two o'clock, and her stomach was growling. "We'd be happy to. Where and when should we meet you?"

"I'll be in my office. Will fifteen minutes give you sufficient time to complete your experiments?"

"We're through with the first batch and reviewing literature at present. Let me make sure Cho isn't planning anything else complicated." She covered the receiver with her hand. "Cho, what would you say to tea with your father in fifteen minutes?"

Cho blinked as she pulled herself from the article she was reading. "Tea? Sure. Oh, we haven't even had lunch yet! A quarter hour will give us enough time, I think."

"We'll see you in fifteen minutes," confirmed Scully.

"Excellent. Until then, Dr. Scully."

"Until then."

Scully had barely replaced the phone in its cradle when an excited squeal came from Cho.

"Dana, you have to see this!"

Scully raced to Cho's side and began reading over her shoulder.

"The protein enzyme sphingomyelinase D actively dissolves cell membranes, causing tissue necrosis! The homologous structures on our protein could be the cause of all the eaten-away bits on the body we examined."

"Sphingomyelinase D is found in the venom of _loxosceles reclusa,_ which is common in North America. The brown recluse spider," Scully read aloud. " It's impossible that this damage was caused by a spider venom," she said. "Spider bites deliver less than half a microliter of venom. To cause such widespread tissue damage, the body would have to have been practically dipped in the stuff. To even collect a milliliter of the venom would take months."

_Unless,_ said the voice of Mulder in her head, _there was a really big spider._

Scully shook her head. There really was no escape from the man.

Cho pulled up another article on her screen. "I did manage to find a little bit about TPX5. It's another spider venom, from a type of tarantula. This one's a polypeptide venom that has been implicated in blocking stretch-activated ion channels in cell membranes. So our protein has a cysteine knot sticking out somewhere. How bizarre! This is definitely a new protein, if we had any lingering doubts."

"Two different toxins integrated into a single protein," mused Scully. "It seems too perfect. How difficult would it be to synthesize this protein?"

"Well, the polypeptide is hydrophobic, so that might cause problems for some applications, but the genes are well-profiled and easy to get. It could probably be done, but synthesizing such a large protein would be very difficult. Beyond the size of the protein, we also run into the same problem of creating large quantities. Even expressing a liter of it would take some serious time and effort."

"I doubt effort and time are limiting factors, given the number of groups would give their eyeteeth for an unknown, deadly agent like this, especially one that bears such a remarkable similarity to natural toxins."

Cho stood briskly. "Well, I think that's one problem solved and only a few dozen more mystery compounds to analyze. I don't know about you, Dr. Scully, but I'm getting hungry. If we hurry, we can grab something healthy down in the cafeteria before so we don't fill up on chocolate biscuits at Linangru's tea."

Scully held the lab door open for her. "Now I know why they call you a genius, Dr. Wei."

They had nearly reached the cafeteria on the first floor when the lab exploded.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Back at the hotel, Mulder heard what he thought was thunder, and decided against going back to the British Museum that afternoon in favor of some Magical research.

He kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks, and grabbed his new copy of_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. After chuckling his way through the introduction- Scamander had to be a friend of Albus's- he perused a section on defining beasts and beings. This required many jumps into various sections of the A-Z of Magical Beasts, so as to find out exactly what Diricawls and Fwoopers were in the context of the article. He soon abandoned looking them up, and promised himself that he'd read all the beasts in order after he finished with the introductory articles.

He couldn't help but feel validated by this confirmation of existing legendary creatures, especially realizing that there were entire governmental departments devoted to hiding them from him. Still, he felt that this book was an excellent starting place for learning a little bit about the behaviors of magical creatures. He might not be able to do much about a fully trained wizard with a wand, but now he knew better than to listen to Fwooper song for any extended length of time.

Finally, he came to the beginning of the A-Z listing, and eagerly began reading the first "A" creature, the acromantula.

His breath caught in his throat.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Scully and Cho nearly fell to the ground as the building shook and all the lights went out. The initial roaring blast was soon forgotten when the alarms shrieked to life.

Cho's eyes were wide. "What in the name of Agrippa was that?"

Scully's training kicked in and she dragged Cho to the floor as black smoke began pouring out of the stairwells.

"Explosion and fire somewhere on the upper levels," she yelled over the deafening alarms. "We've got to get out of here. Stay low. Smoke inhalation is a much greater threat than fire at this point."

Cho pulled her arm out of Scully's grasp. "I've got to find Liangru!"

"Cho, you'll be killed!"

Cho pulled her wand out from a holster hidden on her ankle. "I'll be fine. Will you come with me?"

If Liangru needed immediate medical care, Cho would need her. She pulled her own wand out of her pocket and nodded.

The smoke in the hallway was getting thicker, so Cho cast a charm on herself and Scully that made a large bubble of air appear around each of their heads. She followed this by a charm that sounded like _flammis titillando_, but Scully had no idea what it did. It had to be some kind of protection charm, but she wasn't familiar with the word _titillando_.

She and Cho charged up the stairway, breathing their clean air and passing a few dozen survivors on their way out. Several were in biohazard suits- they must have been in some of the high security labs, and they were fortunate enough to have their own air supply.

As they reached the fourth floor, which housed Liangru's office, Scully could make out tongues of flame on the stairway above them.

"The explosion must have happened on the fifth floor," yelled Scully to Cho. She wasn't sure if her voice would carry through the air bubbles, but Cho nodded.

The smoke was so thick on the fourth floor that Scully couldn't see. Entire rooms were on fire, and they passed an unconscious figure on the floor, but it wasn't Liangru. Scully felt for a pulse.

"Dead."

Cho nodded, and tore down the hallway to her father's office.

They found him slumped over his desk, though his office was miraculously free from flame. A quick examination confirmed that Liangru was still alive, but his pulse was dangerously faint. Cho cast an air bubble over his head and slung him over her shoulder with strength Scully wouldn't have guessed she possessed.

"I can apparate with one other person- will you be able to make it out on your own?"

"I'll be fine."

Cho's face was fierce as she and her father disappeared with a loud pop.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Mulder ran into the street, gesticulating wildly. He knew there was something terribly wrong when nobody answered his call to the Brisbin Institute. Fortunately, the cabbie he had been hailing squealed to a stop a few feet in front of him.

The driver's face was pale, but he managed some habitual sarcasm. "Need a cab, mate?"

"The Brisbin Institute, and step on it!"

"Traffic is shite, I was just over that end of town."

Mulder banged on plexiglass barrier. "Just go, man! Go!"

The cab sped off.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Scully ran down the hall toward the far stairwell, clutching the sheaf of papers she'd taken from Liangru's office- the case file for their investigation. The ceiling had collapsed near the stairwell they'd come up, and the beams overhead were groaning horribly. She came across a body in the stairwell, another victim of smoke inhalation, and stopped short. A vision of Severus swam in her mind. He was slumped in the doorway of his lab, unconscious, and with a large knot on his head.

As quickly as it had come, the vision vanished, and she raced down the half-flight of stairs to Severus's hidden laboratory on the third floor.

The smoke was blinding, but she found him immediately, just as he had appeared to her moments before. Something must have fallen on to his head during the explosion, and he likely had lost consciousness as he tried to escape.

He was still alive, but Scully didn't know the charm to make an air bubble for him. She cursed herself for not listening more attentively to Cho. She threw herself to the ground and pulled Severus into the hallway, keeping him as low to the ground as possible. She began dragging him down the hall, mind awhirl.

If creating a new air bubble wasn't a possibility, could he share hers? A loud crash from above indicated that the fourth floor had collapsed, and a huge piece of burning ceiling crashed down where Severus had lain a moment ago.

Spurred on by the imminent collapse, she yanked Severus's head close to hers and tried to put his face into her air bubble. The surface of the bubble gave, rather like the surface of a water balloon, but his face stayed resolutely outside. Dismayed, she put all of her efforts into dragging him into the stairwell, which she hoped would be less smoky than the hall.

When they reached the landing, Scully was able to pull his arms around her neck and lift him across her back. Wobbling dangerously, she stepped deliberately down the stairs, focusing on staying upright and not injuring him further. With step after grueling step, she realized that the edges of her air bubble were fading. If it dissolved completely they would both die- they were still two floors above the ground.

Suddenly, it came to her. She lay him gently on the stairs, and pulled out her wand.

"_Accio."_

Her heart soared as his limp form rose to hover a few inches and floated gently toward her. Focusing her entire mind on keeping moving toward her, she ran down the stairs and into the cavernous lobby, where her air bubble dissolved, just as Severus's unconscious body knocked into hers. Exhausted from keeping the spell active for so long and breathing the smoke-choked air, she fell to the ground, unconscious.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Mulder stared testily at the unmoving sea of automobiles around him. "Why is there so much traffic? It's Saturday afternoon!"

"Got me, mate. Last time traffic was this bad, some nutter was threatening to jump from a high-rise."

Mulder swore. "Which way is the Brisbin from here?"

"About four blocks East, five blocks North."

Mulder shoved a twenty pound note through the change slot. "Keep the change." He opened the door of the cab and started running.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Percy returned to his flat after a perfectly wretched luncheon with his family. Fred and George had delighted in telling their mother about Percy's "date," and his mother spent the rest of the time trying to convince Percy that there was nothing wrong with his not having a girlfriend, which she very obviously didn't believe herself. She spent the rest of the afternoon moaning that Ron's auror training never allowed him to come home for their weekly brunch or that Ginny spent too much time with her boyfriend, or that Bill hadn't brought the children by in ages. Never "Oh Percy, it's so good of you to come," or "Percy, I hope you know how much we appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to visit regularly!"

He loved his mother, but wished that he didn't always have to be an audience for grievances against other family members. Fred and George kept themselves entertained by vehemently agreeing with her and snorting into their scones. They'd also managed to dose him with an Alliteration Allsort before he was able to excuse himself. His mother's yelling still rang in his ears.

Only last night, he'd made his debut at the DuBonnay club. He'd dealt with Draco Malfoy with enough professionalism to impress Severus Snape. He'd shared ice cream with the most interesting lady he'd met in years. And now he was back to being Perfect Percy, Poncing Prat.

He threw himself bodily onto the sofa, forgetting the large pile of files he'd left there. They reacted to being violently displaced by scattering themselves all over the floor and coffee table.

Cursing, he rubbed his head and tried to re-sort the files into approximate piles, when he a flash of orange caught his eye. The disturbance had unearthed the map assigned to tracking Scully. He hadn't looked at it since Dumbledore assured him that she would be protected at all times. However, the map was flashing orange- a sign that she was in mortal danger, and the red haze around her unmoving dot in the lobby of the Brisbin Institute indicated magic. And Severus Snape was with her, also unmoving.

Percy apparated to her side without a second thought.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Jogging several miles a week was one thing. Sprinting nine city blocks was quite another, Mulder decided. His lungs were already on fire, and his throat was painfully dry. Emergency vehicles wove noisily through the stopped traffic, blaring horns and sirens. He seized his opportunity when a fire truck passed him on the sidewalk, and he leaped on board, stitches searing his sides as he fought to catch his breath.

The firemen riding on the outside of the truck protested his presence- they obviously did not think that his FBI badge was the genuine article- but they were not so inhumane as to throw him off, at least not until the truck came to a stop.

They rounded a corner and Mulder gasped at the inferno ahead. The Brisbin Institute's upper stories were completely engulfed in flame, and smoke poured out of every entrance. From what little Mulder knew of large building fires, the Institute was too far gone to be saved.

Mulder leaped from the fire truck as it pulled up next to the many emergency vehicles that were already lined up in front. Fortunately, the fire truck had deposited him inside the perimeter of police, who were keeping back spectators.

Yellow suited firemen swarmed on tall ladder trucks, which were aiming blasts of water at the third floor, where the fire appeared to be spreading, while dozens were running in and out of the lobby, laying hoses and carrying the odd survivor- or victim- out of the building. Mulder stared helplessly at the billows of black smoke pouring from the front doors. His eyes and lungs were stinging. About twenty yards away, he made out a group of survivors being tended by ambulance crew. If Scully had made it out alive, that's where she'd be.

He covered his mouth and nose with his t-shirt and ran over to the ambulances, brandishing his FBI badge to ward off any officious emergency workers. Thus far, about fifty people had been pulled from the fire. Some were being loaded into ambulances, and others were stable enough to talk with police about what had happened.

Mulder scanned the crowd for Scully's red hair but didn't see her. He tried to assure himself that if she were alive, she would have been taken away in an ambulance already. But he knew in his heart that she was still inside the building.

He had to go in.

No sooner than he had made the decision, a flash of red caught his eye at the entrance of the building. Four figures, two upright and two being carried came pelting out of the pouring smoke. Heedless of the smoke, he pelted toward his partner, who was being carried by a firefighter. He barely registered the smaller man, unprotected by fire gear, dragging a dark figure to safety.

"Scully!"

The firefighter shoved him off, intent on getting her to an ambulance, and he realized that she was unconscious. He turned and was surprised to find Percy, dragging Snape who was also out cold. Percy's eyes were bloodshot, and his face and clothes were covered with soot. His breathing was rough and interrupted by violent coughing, but he doggedly pulled Snape by one arm.

Without a word, Mulder took Snape's other arm, and the two men carried him to the ambulance, where several of the crew had put an oxygen mask over Scully's face and were checking her vital signs.

Percy bent over and coughed up an awful black bolus of soot, relinquishing Snape to Mulder, who yelled at another ambulance crew to help him. Once oxygen had been provided and Snape's head wound was being examined, Mulder returned to Percy, who was drawing grateful breaths off a small oxygen tank someone had provided.

He looked gravely at Mulder. "Surely Scully and Severus should abscond to safety, sans stalling."

He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth.

Mulder gestured toward the cluster of EMTs surrounding them. "How do you suggest we do that? They're a little tied up at the moment."

"Albus always affords agents absconding aids," he said, holding up a glittering pocketwatch.

Mulder grinned. "So is our rescue at hand? Or should I say, this terrific timepiece will terminate the threat?"

Percy glared at him. "Twins' tomfoolery. Inquire in immunity."

"Fine, I'll ask later. How does that thing work?"

"Gather group. Clasp chronometer in communion."

"Right."

Mulder and Percy wove between the stretchers and gurneys, finding that Scully was being loaded into an ambulance. Percy's frantic look indicated that this was very bad. Without having to be told, he pushed Severus's gurney to the ambulance into which Scully was being loaded. Mulder was pulling a Markinson on one of the EMTs who was helping with Scully. With a pang, he realized that pulling a Markinson on someone was a lot less credible with only one person. Fortunately, Percy was able to pull Severus within an arm's length of Mulder and Scully before the EMTs had Mulder forcibly removed.

Percy sent up a silent prayer that his superiors would forgive him this use of magic in front of Muggles, grabbed Mulder's outstretched hand, and activated the portkey. He felt the familiar pull behind his belly button and the world of chaos swirled into the familiar brownstone walls he had grown to love during his tenure.

Mulder, who was clearly unused to magical modes of travel had managed to fall on the floor. He gazed in wonder at vaulted ceilings and the moving portraits that covered the walls.

"What is this place?"

"Hogwarts's hallowed halls," he replied. And for the first time, the alliteration seemed appropriate.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The persistent whispering had finally drawn him to consciousness, in spite of his body's demands that it remain in the realm of Morpheus. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to think, and it hurt to be conscious. It also hurt to growl.

"He's awake at last, thank Merlin!" cried the familiar voice of Poppy Pomfrey.

"Medea's babysitter," Severus swore, "if you don't keep your voice down, I will forcibly remove your trachea with my bare hands."

His eyes were burning, and his mouth tasted vile. The explosion. The bottle of alligator bile had fallen on his head. He immediately began coughing.

Undaunted, the nurse produced a dose of potion –expectorant, judging by the smell- from the folds of her robe. "Take this, and no grousing."

He recovered from his fit enough to swallow the potion and immediately began coughing up vile black sputum into the pan held patiently by the mediwitch.

"That's it, Severus," she pounded his back, encouraging his cough. "Once your lungs are clear, I can get you some painkiller for that knot on your head."

His vision swam as the racking coughs continued to come, and he felt the need to vomit. Fortunately, Poppy had foreseen this as well, and a nod from her brought a second pair of cool hands wiping his forehead with a damp flannel while his body purged itself of all the soot and smoke it had absorbed.

Finally, the heaving of his stomach and lungs quieted, and the nurse let him lie back in bed to rest. His eyelids dropped almost immediately and his breathing returned to normal.

He was on the verge of sleep when a timid voice asked, "Will he be all right?"

"He'll be find after a good night's sleep. The worst is past, now that all that awful smoke is out of his system. You did the right thing when you went after them. Neither of them would have made it if they had been in that smoke for much longer."

He had been rescued. How could anyone have known? He heard someone pull a chair up next to his bed. "Dana will be fine too, won't she?"

"Of course she will. She was exposed to the fire for less time than Severus was. Her partner has been sitting up with her. Poor thing, he was so upset. Now, Mr. Weasley, there's something I would like to know. Where on earth did you get a portkey into the hospital wing?"

Weasley. Of course. Albus had given him a portkey into Hogwarts. Trust Weasley to get caught by the school nurse. But, he amended, Weasley had saved him.

"It was a gift from the Headmaster many years ago. He told me to keep it with me at all times." Severus was surprised to realize that he didn't know if the boy was lying or not.

"Rest his soul, Albus Dumbledore always did have incredible foresight," said the nurse fondly. "Now back to bed with you, or I'll have you eating gruel."

She bustled in the direction of the dispensary, as if to make good on her threat. Severus remembered Poppy's gruel none too fondly. He hoped that if he slept the night he might be spared. He felt a hand smooth his hair back from his forehead, and then he remembered no more.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Author's Note: Utter and abject apology. Next chapter will take less than a year to post. I love you all!


	17. Accelerando

Title: Cloak and Wand

Author: Mundungus42

Email: PG-13 for the occaisional icky bit

Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter

Spoilers: X-Files through season 5 (though a few hints for the later non-plot-arc episodes), Harry Potter through Order of the Phoenix. There are some advantages to waiting a year between chapters ;)

Ghashlycrumb Disclaimer:

N is for Nancy who fell down the stairs.

O is for Olive, assaulted by bears.

T is for Terrence, who choked on a peach.

M is for Mary, sucked dry by a leech.

I is for Ida, who washed out to see.

N is for Newton who died of ennui.

E is for Ed, who was swarmed by some swine.

! is to emphasize this isn't mine.

Disclaimer for Disclaimer: I don't own Edward Gorey, either.

Author's Note: Must… finish…. before... HBP…

3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E

Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Seventeenth

He had been expecting the phone to ring for quite some time, yet the electronic trill still startled him when it did. He set his glass of Ogden's down on the desk and raised the mobile phone to his ear.

"Mister Malfoy." The voice on the other end was not pleased.

"Spender."

"My sources tell me that you decided to shut down our operation. Permanently."

"I should hope you would have heard by now. It's rather old news here."

The bored tone elicited a momentary silence. Malfoy allowed himself a smirk.

"What on earth possessed you to destroy everything we've worked for in the last year and a half?"

"Where should I start?" Malfoy's drawl took on an edge. "You first sent Muggles to do a Wizard's work and they managed to get themselves killed in a damned awkward way. I was left to clean up your mess. Then, in your infinite wisdom, you sent a Witch to do a Muggle's work. Yet again, I was left to clean up your mess. Furthermore, she managed to befriend the one person in the Brisbin Institute with the means to uncover the true cause of your agents' deaths. I took the steps that I deemed necessary."

"You destroyed a two hundred and fifty million dollar building."

"They were insured."

"You destroyed our research."

"The work, to date, was delivered to your agents not a week ago. If anything, I should be the angry one. One of my hand-picked researchers is missing, presumed dead. Fortunately, he had already finished the most important project before I found it necessary to 'shut down the operation,' as you termed it."

Spender drew a deep breath. Malfoy assumed it was filtered through the end of a cigarette. "What do you mean, 'I sent a Witch to do a Muggle's job?'"

Malfoy sneered. "Don't tell me you didn't know your Agent Scully is a witch?"

Spender was uncharacteristically silent. This was too much. Malfoy exploded in peals of derisive laughter.

Spender's voice was tight with anger. "What makes you think that Agent Scully, a cool and rational scientist, could possibly have magical ability?"

"My dear Mr. Spender," he said, recovering somewhat, "the better question is, how could you have missed it?"

Malfoy let the wheels in Spender's head grind for a moment before he elaborated.

"A wizard on her flight to London discovered her and reported her to our Ministry of Magic. From the moment she set foot on British soil, she has been tracked by a particularly thorough Ministry employee. It was through his reports that I managed to connect Untrained Unregistered Witch 683 and your Agent Scully."

In reality, it had been Alphosne McKendrick's bragging about his newest object of affection- Weasley's American cousin. Malfoy, who prided himself on knowing all New and Old World magical lineages, knew that there was no such thing. That alone had raised enough suspicion for him to raid Weasley's office and later access the Ministry's master UUW tracking map. The moment he read that UUW683 had entered the Brisbin Institute and met Cho Chang in the lobby that morning, Malfoy knew that drastic action was required.

"If you knew she was a witch from the moment she set foot in Britain, why did you allow her to get so close to the truth?"

"Morgan's Girdle!" swore Malfoy, "Be glad that I discovered her when I did, before she did irreparable damage to our organization."

"You seem to have done plenty of irreparable damage on your own," said Spender. In a less powerful man, his tone might have been described as sulky. "Do you know if any of them survived the fire?"

"Liangru Chang is in critical condition at St. Mungo's, the premier magical hospital in London. Most inconvenient. As for Agent Scully, it is my guess that she is in hiding with Agent Mulder. She was with Liangru's daughter at the time of the explosion, so we can assume she made it out alive. She has not been back to her hotel, nor has her partner. Agent Mulder was last seen in the British Museum, where he was investigating the disappearance of the two minor Egyptian artifacts that were stolen."

"So Mulder knows."

"Then he will have to be eliminated."

"To eliminate him now would make him a martyr to his cause. Surely you have more subtle means at your disposal."

Malfoy exhaled loudly. "Why should I waste my time and efforts on subtlety?"

"Really, Mr. Malfoy. Have I ever not made your time and efforts worthwhile?"

"It will cost you dearly this time, Spender."

"Yes, yes. But do see that there are no loose ends this time."

"There would be no loose ends, if not for your interference. Leave everything to me."

"Consider it left. Good evening, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy flipped the tiny telephone shut and placed it next to the tumbler of Ogden's. Damn. The ice had melted.

He downed the watery liquor in one gulp, and pulled a magnifying glass from his desk drawer. The master UUW tracking map seemed to be having some trouble. The picture was clear enough, but the text identifying the people on it was so fuzzy as to be nearly illegible. Was there magical interference of some sort?

He peered through the glass at the red dot in the center of the map. She was in bed, and her partner was at her side. The layout of the room was confoundingly familiar, but he couldn't place it. There was one other person in the room by the window, but the identifying text was vibrating so much that he couldn't read it.

He squinted, willing the name to be still, and miraculously, the script cleared for an instant. He rather wished it hadn't.

This wasn't going to be pretty.

3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E

Scully drifted into consciousness. Warm sunlight was on her face and Mulder's snores rang in her ears. He had been seated beside her bed, but he was presently slumped on the edge of her bed, head buried in the crook of his elbow.

She examined her surroundings with interest. Vaulted ceilings and flagstone floors contrasted sharply with the privacy screens that separated her immediate surroundings from the rest of the room. Apart from Mulder, the only other sign of life was a tabby cat basking on the windowsill and flashes of movement from the paintings on the walls. The moving pictures should have surprised her, but for some reason, they didn't. Magical surroundings went a long way towards explaining why she was still alive.

Her lungs ached when she breathed deeply, but they were remarkably free from fluid and infection. Apart from her scratchy throat, she felt fine. Better than fine. She hadn't felt this remarkably well since before the cancer.

The last thing she remembered was trying to get Severus out of the fire. Apparently, she had failed to get him to safety, but she had been rescued, somehow. Had Severus been rescued, too? Where were Cho and Liangru? Hopefully, Mulder would know.

She gently nudged his elbow with her leg.

"Mulder." Her throat felt like sandpaper.

"Mmm," he said, drifting into consciousness. "I had the strangest dream. And you, and you, and you were there."

Scully smiled, in spite of herself. "Where are we, Mulder?"

"Care to venture a guess?"

"Havana?"

"Close, but no cigar. Try someplace more magical."

"You don't think Havana is magical? You must have been during tourist season."

Mulder grinned. "You sound surprisingly chipper for someone who nearly died last night."

"I nearly died three months ago. I no longer let brushes with death spoil my sense of humor."

He ruffled her hair, but his eyes were serious. "You're really OK, Scully?"

She gave him a radiant smile. "For once, I think you can actually believe me when I assure you that I'm fine."

"Amazing," he said, smiling softly. "And to answer your question, we are in the hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You and Severus were both treated for smoke inhalation and minor burns."

"Severus is all right?"

The smile faded. "Yes, he's fine. He was in worse shape than you were, but he'll be turning cartwheels in no time."

"Thank God."

Mulder sensed more than just relief behind her exclamation, but was too respectful of her ordeal to call attention to it. Perhaps that was a subject best left undiscussed.

"What about Cho and Liangru?"

"Cho's fine; Liangru is in intensive care at a magical hospital in London."

"Will he be all right?"

"They're not sure at this point. Percy says it's lucky that Cho's mother has so much influence in the magical world. Most Muggles are banned from magical hospitals."

Lucky indeed. Damage to the lungs was notoriously painful and difficult to treat. Yet the magical treatment seemed to have completely restored her health in less than twenty-four hours. She looked at Mulder quizzically. "Liangru was exposed to so much less smoke than Severus. Doesn't it seem odd to you that magic hasn't been able to cure him instantaneously?"

Mulder looked thoughtful. "Do you think Muggles are more susceptible than Wizards?"

"I think it's more likely that someone attacked him and then tried to hide it in the fire."

A slow smile spread across Mulder's face. "Sneaky. I like it. Of course, the real question is, how did you and Cho manage to blow up the Brisbin Institute?"

"We didn't have to. Someone blew it up for us."

"Any guesses as to why?"

"That's easy. We got too close to the truth."

Mulder blinked in surprise. Fortunately, Scully continued without noticing his lapse.

"Cho and I had sequenced the molecule that we believe caused all of the external deterioration of the body. It's a completely novel protein that causes severe tissue necrosis. It's homologous with two types of spider venom. I can't rule out a natural origin for such a substance, but it seems to me that the venom is too perfect a weapon and too copiously produced to be the work of a known creature."

"That's my girl! What would you say if I agreed with you without reservation?"

"I'd ask how much smoke you inhaled yesterday."

"Seriously, Scully. You're right on the money. The creature we're looking for is not natural in any way."

"I'm listening."

"While you and Cho were profiling novel proteins, I was reading through the book you purchased for me last night." He grabbed the crimson-bound book that had been resting under his chair and opened it. "Look at the very first entry in the A-Z index. Does that set your spider sense a-tingling?"

Scully digested. "Unbelievable."

"Yet there it is, in uncontestable print. I think our killer is an acromantula, or several acromantulae."

"And either our man was killed in Borneo, or we have solid proof of the colony living in Scotland."

"_Had,_ Scully. We _had _evidence. Like you said, you were too close to the truth."

The cat on the windowsill jumped down abruptly and began rubbing against Mulder's shins. He scratched it behind the ears absently.

"So where do we go from here, Mulder?"

"Well, Nicholas and Albus have rescheduled our meeting for later this afternoon, but they've also extended some more invitations. It will be the four of us, plus Cho, Percy, and Severus. He owled Percy a portkey."

"Portkey?"

"That's how we got here, Scully. A portkey is an enchanted object that transports all people touching it to a specific place, often at a specific time."

Scully grinned. "I think this is going to be fun."

Mulder shrugged. "Admittedly it's not quite as cool as being beamed places, but unlike Star Trek, this is real."

"Lying in the hospital wing of a school for magical training seems pretty unreal to me, but I'm willing to take your word for it." She wriggled uncomfortably and tugged at the neck of the white gown she wore. "Mulder, do you know where my clothes are? You might not have noticed, but apparently Magical hospital gowns have about as much coverage in the rear as their Muggle counterparts. I feel a distinct breeze."

"Don't worry about your missing clothes," he said with a pun-prefacing grin. "We'll get to the bottom it."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Mulder."

"Did I ever tell you about the man with one buttock whose autobiography was called 'Left Behind?'"

"Mulder!"

"You're right, Scully. I apologize for my ass-inine behavior. Ow!"

The cat that Mulder had been petting abruptly sank its claws into his ankle. He grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and set it back on the windowsill. It wriggled and hissed at him, but remained on the sill.

"It can't be sanitary to let animals hang around an infirmary."

Scully hid a smile.

"And speaking of grievous injuries," he said massaging his ankle, "Madam Pomfrey wanted me to find her when you woke. If you can stand to be alone with that murderous beast, I'll see if she wants to give you any more medication."

Scully patted her wand, which was lying on the bedside table. "I'll be fine."

When Mulder had limped behind the screen, the cat returned to her bedside and leaped up to the foot of her bed.

Scully curled her feet up underneath her. "Oh no, you don't," she said to the cat. "I saw what you did last time. Not that I blame you. You just got your claws out faster than I did."

The cat looked at her guiltily and rubbed its face against her knee, purring.

"Well, aren't you a sweet pretty girl?" Scully traced the markings around the cat's eyes with her index finger.

Scully gathered the cat into her lap and stroked her from tail to tip. The cat arched her back into her and purred even more loudly.

A loud snicker from behind surprised her.

"Well, well, well. Isn't this a heartwarming scene?"

"Severus!" He was wrapped in a white blanket, and looked quite ghastly, but he was alive.

The cat leaped from Scully's lap as if stung. She stalked to the window, tail stiff as a bottle-brush, and flounced back up onto the sill. If cats could be said to glare, this one was looking daggers at Severus.

Severus smirked at the cat.

"I take it you two know one another?"

"If you knew her as well as I knew her, I doubt very much you'd consent to hold her on your lap."

"She did claw up Mulder's ankle a moment ago. Perhaps she doesn't care for men. I've known both dogs and horses that couldn't stand to be around men."

Severus looked at the cat thoughtfully. "That might explain a great deal."

The cat hissed at him and strutted behind the screen, tail held high.

Severus watched the cat go and turned to Scully. "I hope you and your partner didn't discuss anything important," he murmured. "The walls of this place have ears, and they love to repeat everything they hear."

Scully frowned. Had they discussed anything that wasn't known to the Wizarding world at large? It was possible, but it also couldn't be taken back at this point.

"Thanks for the warning."

"From what Chang and Weasley have been able to tell me, I believe it is I who owe you thanks, Dr. Scully."

She looked down, shocked to feel her cheeks flushing. "You nearly asphyxiated because I didn't know the charm to make an air supply."

"I believe a more graceful reply might be 'You're welcome.' Such a response would also preclude my calling you a dunderhead."

Scully smiled. "I am very glad you're alive."

"So am I. But your timely rescue does raise some interesting questions. Chang says she left you alone on the fourth floor, and Weasley found us both in the lobby. I know for a fact that I lost consciousness before getting into the hallway. I outweigh you by at least four stone."

"As for outweighing you, it makes little difference when one knows _accio._"

Severus frowned. "You used a summoning spell to get me out?"

"Not at first. I tried to share my air supply with you first, but it just stressed the edges of my bubble."

"But how did you know I was there in the first place?"

"I _saw_ you," Scully blurted out. "I can't explain how, but when I was in the stairwell, I saw you unconscious in the doorway as clearly as if I had been standing next to you. After that, it was easy to find you."

"As a medical doctor, would you have encouraged a patient of yours to follow a hallucination?"

"This wasn't a hallucination."

"How can you be sure?"

"It may sound like circular logic, but I'm sure because you were actually there. Isn't there a branch of magic that deals with this sort of thing?"

"Yes," he admitted with distaste, "but it's an imprecise art, rather like psychology. The frauds in the field far outweigh those with the real gift of foresight."

"Is it understood why visions occur, Severus?"

"There are many thoughts on the subject, but none that can be tested or proved. Besides, true visions are very rare and occur unpredictably, so they would be difficult to study empirically."

Scully exhaled loudly. "Leave it to me to end up with a gift for the iffiest branch of magic. It's as if fate is mocking me for my dependence on logic and love of the scientific method."

Severus looked at her sourly. "It could always be worse. You could have found that you had a skill for necromancy."

The absurdity hit Scully hard, as did the realization that it hurt to laugh.

"Severus!" came an authoritative voice from behind. "I will not have you distressing Dr. Scully! And you should be lying down. Back to bed with you!"

Scully watched in amazement as the small witch shooed Severus behind the screen.

"Now," she said, turning to Scully and raised her wand. "Breathe deeply and hold it for a moment. _Audio!_"

Scully allowed the mediwitch to examine her, fascinated by the diagnostic spells she used. It was over all too soon.

"Good," she nodded. "You may take lunch this morning, but stay away from dairy and citrus." She waved her wand and replaced Scully's hospital gown with the dark blue robes she'd purchased in Diagon Alley. With another wave, a goblet of potion appeared on the stand next to Scully's bed.

"Drink that before you eat. It will replenish your strength. I daresay you'll need it. Mr. Weasley wants to whisk you off as soon as I release Severus." She tutted disapprovingly.

Scully drained the bright blue potion gratefully and felt her spirits rise.

"Thank you."

The mediwitch gave a maternal smile. "You're welcome, Dr. Scully. If you'll excuse me, I have to see what Minerva did to your partner's ankle. May I ask what he did to provoke her?"

"He made a series of feeble puns."

"Puns? Oh dear. There will be no living with her now."

She bustled off in search of Mulder, shaking her head sadly.

Scully rose from her bed and marveled at how well she felt. She shook the stiffness out of her shoulders and walked to the window. The hospital wing was located on what appeared to be the third floor of the castle, though towers stuck up haphazardly from the lower floors. The manicured castle lawns gave way to a lake and a dense swath of forest as far as she could see.

She turned her eye to the courtyard and smiled when she noticed a shock of red hair walking toward one of the large doors. Percy. The sun flashed off his glasses as he looked up at the castle, and Scully waved. He started as he noticed her, then waved back enthusiastically. His pace quickened and he disappeared into the door.

The sky was filled with high cirrus clouds, and the air was warm and humid. Scully suppressed a yawn. Where was that lunch the mediwitch had mentioned? She slid behind the privacy screen at the head of her bed and into an aisle that led between the two rows of beds.

Only one other bed had been occupied recently, presumably Severus's, but he was nowhere to be found. Feeling somewhat disconcerted by the probing gazes of the portrait occupants, she made her way quickly to the front of the hall, where she heard the mediwitch's tutting.

Mulder's foot was resting on the seat of a wooden chair, trousers leg rolled up. The mediwitch was searching through the thousands of potions doses stored in what appeared to be an enormous wardrobe. Finally, she emerged with a vial of green potion.

"You're very lucky, Mr. Mulder. I was nearly out of cat-scratch cleaner. Minerva has been in a frightful temper since the students left for the summer. I assume it has something to do with the departure of the Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor. She hated to see him go," she said in a confidential voice. She cleaned the cuts with a few dabs. The potion made an odd hissing sound when applied. She then poked his ankle with her wand, and the scratches healed instantly.

"Amazing," said Mulder, staring at his unmarked ankle. "Can you heal any flesh wound like that?"

The Mediwitch was rifling through the wardrobe again. "All skin wounds, except for those caused by curses or cursed animals, yes."

"Broken bones?"

"Easy as eating a pumpkin pasty."

"Infectious disease?"

"If we can identify the symptoms, we can cure them. Not a single Wizard or Witch has ever died of plague, syphilis, or tuberculosis. The nastier viral diseases can sometimes kill before the victim can find an experienced Mediwitch or Mediwizard, but unless the patient is extremely stubborn, we can cure everything, from Ebola to pinkeye."

"So what can't you do?"

Madam Pomfrey's face grew grave. "As long as there are wizards and witches out there finding new ways to interfere with the body and mind, mediwizardry will always be a step behind. Even now, there are a number of incurable poisons, as well as spells that affect the brain and central nervous system in ways that we don't completely understand." Her face cleared as she noticed Scully watching them.

"And now that I've given you both a clean bill of health, sustenance is in order. Take the stairway on the right down two flights when you leave the infirmary, then follow the suits of armour to the Great Hall. There ought to be plenty of room at the Head Table. Severus is already down there, and he has a knack for clearing a room."

"Madam Pomfrey, I noticed Percy on his way in. If we don't see him on our way to lunch, would you let him know where we are?"

"Certainly. And if you see Minerva lurking around the hallways, can you please send her up here? I'd like to have a word with her. It's also much safer for Severus's ankles if they're separated by a floor or more."

"Of course. Thank you for everything."

The mediwitch smiled. "It's all in a day's work, Dr. Scully. Off with you now!"

After the heavy oak door to the infirmary had closed, Mulder shook his head. "She may be a bit dotty about her cat, but she certainly knows her stuff."

"I'll say," said Scully, gingerly picking her way down the uneven stairway. "I find it hard to believe that Severus is alive, much less taking lunch at this point."

"Gee, Scully, if I didn't know better, I'd say you had a soft spot for Mr. Tall, Sallow, and Sour-Faced."

"Really, Mulder," she said, sending a reproachful look over her shoulder. "If Alb-" she cut off, glancing warily at the paintings, who gazed at her expectantly. "If Mr. White has worked with him for so many years, then he's sure to be a useful ally."

They followed Madam Pomfrey's directions and an enormously tall set of doors opened at their approach.

Scully gasped. The Great Hall was approximately the size of Notre Dame, with an enormous ceiling open to the sky above. No, she thought as she and Mulder walked between the long tables that ran the length of the hall, the ceiling had to be enchanted to look like the outside. There was none of the sun's burning radiance from above, and the air was unnaturally still.

As the mediwitch had predicted, Severus was the sole occupant of the hall, and he had changed into his usual black robes.

"Hello there, Professor Snape," said Mulder in his friendliest voice. "Do you mind if we join you?"

"Yes," said Severus, not looking up from his eggs.

The partners exchanged glances, Mulder with eyebrows raised and Scully with a ghost of a smile at the corner of her lips. They opted for seats at the other end of the table.

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Percy walked up the stairs to the hospital wing as quickly as his dignity allowed, not even noticing the cat watching his approach. He didn't even notice the soft whoosh that accompanies a human transformation. He did, however, notice the imperious voice that hailed him a moment later.

"Just a moment, Mr. Weasley."

He turned to face his former head of house and groaned internally.

"Headmistress, how good to see you. I do apologise, but I'm in a terrible rush, so if you'll excuse me." He began running up the stairs. To hell with dignity!

"You are not excused, Mr. Weasley," she said, running after him. "You have a great deal of explaining to do. And if you do not cease running away in this cowardly manner, I will turn you into a turtle."

Percy stopped short.

"Now, if you would be so kind as to accompany me to my office?"

She swept down the hallway without waiting for an answer. He had no choice but to follow. In spite of her self-proclaimed dislike of using transfiguration as punishment, McGonagall had grown notoriously crotchety in her ascendancy to Headmistress, and he had no wish to push his luck.

She banished the paintings on the wall with a sweep of her wand, cast a cone of silence spell over her office, and gestured for him to sit down. She regarded him pointedly over the tops of her spectacles.

"Now Mr. Weasley, where is Albus?"

"I beg your pardon?" He hoped his shock didn't show on his face. How did she find out that Albus was alive?

"You heard me, Mr. Weasley. And don't think that I'll believe that cock-and-bull story you told Poppy about Albus giving you a portkey years ago. I happen to possess all of the portkeys Albus created during the war, and the one you used is not known to me. Furthermore, Albus is the only other person who can make a portkey to a location inside Hogwarts." She rose and leaned threateningly over her desk, eyes glittering dangerously. "Where is he?"

He swallowed hard. "With all due respect, Headmistress, I can think of about a dozen more likely explanations for the portkey than thinking Professor Dumbledore has risen from the dead."

"So can I, Mr. Weasley, but none of the more likely explanations also account for the fact that your two friends were discussing him this morning. In the present tense. Now, tell me where he is!"

Something clicked inside, and he suddenly realized that was under no obligation to tell her anything, and she knew it. She was bluffing! He met her gaze squarely. "No, Headmistress. I won't."

Red spots appeared at her cheeks. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm sorry, Headmistress, but I will say nothing more on the subject."

McGonagall looked ready to hex him, but she suddenly slumped into her seat. Percy was shocked to see tears in her eyes.

"You have no idea, Weasley."

Percy handed her a handkerchief and gestured for her to continue.

She blew her nose loudly. "For the first year or so after he disappeared, I was convinced that he'd gone into hiding somewhere. I couldn't believe he was dead. I searched for him everywhere, but fruitlessly. When the school year came, I threw myself into being Headmistress, but I never stopped searching."

"He isn't coming back, Headmistress."

"How can you say that, Weasley? Hasn't he always come when we needed him most?"

The image of Ginny's ashen face after her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets flashed through Percy's mind. "No, he hasn't."

She sniffed, regaining a bit of her old starchiness. "No, I suppose that's true. No use in being sentimental. And I suppose it's selfish of me to think that I need him more than the rest of the world does. But it's a hard lesson to learn that you're not the most important thing in the world to the person that means the most to you."

Percy didn't say anything, but he reached out and took her hand. She blotted her eyes with his handkerchief, collected herself, and handed it back to him.

"You've grown into a good man, Weasley. We all knew you would."

Percy looked down, flustered by the praise.

"And as for that nonsense with your family when that idiot Fudge was still in power, we all make mistakes. The important thing was that you came around when Voldemort revealed himself. That showed good character, Weasley, and none of us have forgotten it, nor all that you did to help the Order."

"Thank you, Headmistress. I only wish I had come to my senses before."

"You and Severus both. And please, call me Minerva. 'Headmistress' seems a bit stuffy. But would we have had someone in Voldemort's inner circle if Severus hadn't erred in joining the Death Eaters? And where would we have been if Scrimgeour hadn't put you in charge of Ministry PR? If you hadn't kept your nose firmly up the Minister's arse when you were his secretary, Scrimgouer never would have been forced from office. That was a good bit of work, by the way. If I didn't know better, I would have thought your meticulous explanation of Scrimgeour's new laws were exactly what the Ministry wanted the public to know about them. The earnest tone was brilliant." She smiled with relish. "And may I never forget the sight of Dolores Umbridge being pelted with rotten tomatoes at the press conference."

"You were there?" Something stirred at the back of Percy's memory. "Hang on a tick, I remember reading a memo from the committee investigating how such a large number of tomatoes got into the press conference. The conclusion was that those tomatoes were transfigured from the leaflets she passed out to the audience. And they were expertly done – just the right degree of decay."

"Really?" said McGonagall, popping a sherbet lemon into her mouth. "How extraordinary. Well, it seems as if I'm not going to get much else out of you, so I suppose I'd better let you get on with your business."

He rose. "Thank you, Headmistress. Minerva."

"Oh, Weasley," she said, as he reached the doorway. "I don't mean for you to betray a confidence, but I'd be eternally grateful if you could ask him where he got his sherbet lemons. I'm nearly through his stores, and none of the magical sweet shops I know seem to have any that are nearly as good."

He gave her a tiny smile as he closed the door behind him.

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He found the three of them in the Great Hall, Dana and her partner deep in conversation, and Snape studiously ignoring them. He cleared his throat, and they all looked up at him.

"I'm glad to find you all together. We need to join our friends at your earliest possible convenience."

"It took you long enough to find us," Severus commented. "Get caught in a trick stair, did you?"

"No," said Percy. "I met Minerva on my way up to the hospital wing, and there was a bit of a misunderstanding."

Mulder and Snape shot him twin looks of sympathy, though the latter covered it with a frown. "Awfully familiar, aren't you, Weasley?"

Percy ignored him in favor of returning Dana's brilliant smile. "Have you eaten? The berries are wonderful this time of year."

Percy took in the spread of sandwiches, fresh fruit, fluffy omelets, and, to his surprise, sunflower seeds.

"I'm still full from breakfast at my parents' house. Have you all finished?"

Mulder and Scully stood, while Snape deliberately licked the last bit of egg from his knife. "I suppose."

Percy withdrew a cheap plastic snow globe from his pocket and held it out for them to touch. It was marked, "Official Souvenir of Nome, Alaska." He looked up and down the Great Hall to ensure that they were alone, shook it vigorously, then held it out for all of them to touch.

The plastic igloo inside glowed a dazzling white, and the familiar tug at his navel assured him that the portkey had worked. When the world righted itself, he found himself in an odd circular room, lit with blue candles. There were twelve plain, black doors on the surrounding wall. One of them opened into a pitch-black interior, and a friendly but unfamiliar face floated into view.

"Nicholas!" Dana's partner appeared to be on a first name basis with the face.

"Mr. Mulder! Dr. Scully, I presume! Please, come in! Come in! Albus and I have been holding tea until your arrival, though I couldn't keep him away from the chocolate biscuits. And I must say that I heard the most amazing joke about two old witches who visit an apothecary!" The face then seemed to notice the others. "Gracious, but I do run on. Welcome, dear friends, to the Department of Mysteries! Nicholas Flamel at your service."

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End Notes: Yes! Two and a half weeks isn't nearly as long as a year! I hope to woo back the readers I alienated with my long absence. Much love to all who read and enjoy, and much love accompanied by homemade chocolate chip cookies to those who read, enjoyed and reviewed!


	18. Sforzando

Title: Cloak and Wand

Author: Mundungus42

Email: PG-13esque

Category: Crossover X-Files/Harry Potter

Spoilers: X-Files through season 5, though with consideration for the rest of the canon, and Harry Potter through (gulp!) HBP (let the back-editing of previous chapters begin as soon as I've reached the end!)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, though I have grounds sue JKR/WB for likeness infringement in the character of Luna Lovegood. X-Files are owned by all other fanfic writers but me. Ha!

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Cloak and Wand: Chapter the Eighteenth

As Scully stepped though the doorway, she realized that she was falling into space. Her arms wheeled uselessly in the air until Mulder grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the doorway.

Flamel, who was floating midair in a full lotus position, noticed that they weren't following him.

"Oh gracious, I forgot we turned off the floor!" He snapped his fingers and dim light appeared, as did a perfectly normal wooden floor.

Recovered somewhat, Scully shot her partner a grateful smile and stepped tentatively into the room. It appeared to be a standard department office, complete with blocky institutional desks exhibiting varying degrees of tidiness. Rather disappointingly mundane after the room with the candles. Cho and Dumbledore were taking tea at a desk cluttered with strange silver machines and maps of the night sky.

Cho looked awful. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked as if she hadn't even changed her clothes since rescuing her father from the fire. Still, she looked exhausted rather than grieved and managed to give Scully a tired smile.

"How's Liangru?"

"He'll live, but he's going to be in St. Mungo's for at least a week. Mum tried to send me home, but I got a bit sidetracked." She nodded at Dumbledore, who rose to greet them.

Dumbledore placed a steaming cup of tea in Scully's hands. "It's good to see you well, Dr. Scully. Poppy was able to tidy you up with very little trouble?"

"She did a marvelous job. I only wish I'd had more time to ask her about her methods."

"Delightful! I trust you were relatively undisturbed during your convalescence? I daresay most of the staff were on holiday."

"It was very quiet, though Mulder managed to get on Minerva's bad side."

Dumbledore paled slightly and tugged at the collar of his robe. Scully suppressed a smile. Chalk up another set of scratched ankles to Minerva.

"Minerva? Ah." His eyes darted to the other side of the room. "May I inquire after your partner? Oh, I see him with Nicholas. If you would be so kind as to excuse me?"

He abruptly turned and joined the others clustered around Flamel, who had unfolded himself from the lotus position and was directing a tray of sweets and tea service with his wand.

"Welcome, friends, new and old," announced Flamel. "I trust no introductions are necessary?"

Severus eyed the proceedings from a dark corner with feigned disinterest. "I believe all of us are, unfortunately, more or less acquainted."

Flamel ignored him. "One lump or two, Mr. Mulder?"

"Two please."

"Mr. Weasley?"

"One, if you please, Mr. Flamel."

"Tosh, my dear boy, call me Nicholas. Severus?"

"No tea."

Nicholas's face was sly as he transfigured the plain ceramic cup into a glass and ornate silver holder. "Not even Russian tea?" A cube of coarse sugar and a lemon wedge hovered tantalizingly over the steaming glass.

Severus scowled and took the glass from Nicholas.

Nicholas beamed in return. "Now," he said, vanishing the biscuit tray with a wave of his wand, "I think it's high time we got everyone up to speed on the proceedings. New arrivals, please don't be alarmed." He snapped his fingers again.

The floor vanished and the room was plunged into darkness. Scully was somewhat comforted to hear several other cries of dismay. For the sake of her tea, she forced her body to be still and realized that she wasn't falling. Still, she wished heartily for some light.

Suddenly, to Scully's astonishment, the room was filled with a comfortingly familiar skyline that cast a gentle light over the other people in the room.

"_Lumos!"_ A pale blue light appeared at the end of Cho's wand. She looked reproachfully at Nicholas. "You might give us more warning next time. You've gone and made me spill my tea."

"I do apologize, Miss Chang." Scully started slightly at the name, then remembered Cho's dual names in the dual worlds. "Here, let me help you." Nicholas floated the teapot jauntily toward Cho and refilled her cup. By this time, Percy and Albus had lit their wands, and Scully was only a moment behind them. She smiled inwardly at the success of her spell.

Still, she felt somewhat disconcerted to be floating in the dark, lit by wands and her childhood home.

"Whose city is this?" asked Flamel, glancing about. "It's not one that I know."

"I think I did. It's San Diego," said Scully, somewhat uncomfortably. " She had little memory of the city skyline at night, except from Fourths of July spent picnicking on Coronado. As the memory flashed into her mind's eye, a glorious pyrotechnic display lit the room around them. Dumbledore and Nicholas applauded. Scully felt the beginnings of an embarrassed smile, but it fell when she noticed Severus scowling at her.

The city lights and fireworks faded to black with her growing discomfiture. Nicholas cleared his throat, and the room was instantly illumiated by a giant floating globe in the center of the room.

Mulder snickered. "Many Bothans died to bring us this information."

Scully elbowed him.

"Now," said Nicholas in a pedagogical voice that contrasted ludicrously with his retreat into full lotus. "We have come together today to recognize a grave threat to life as we know it on this planet. Because some of you are aware of only part of the situation, I will summarize briefly. A group of power-hungry Muggles have teamed up with the worst of our kind to destroy an ancient network of protective shielding devices. These shields were put into place by our magical ancestors in order to protect our planet from hostile extraterrestrial invaders."

Scully was pleased to note that none of the others laughed. Still, it was interesting. Nicholas didn't mention that the "magical ancestors" were extraterrestrials themselves. Mulder caught her eye. He had certainly noticed the omission.

The globe that Nicholas had created was suddenly covered with a myriad of small red dots. "Each of these points represents an area that we suspect a magical shield generator exists, though we only have precise information on a few of them."

"How does one divine the presence of one of these generators?" Mulder wanted to know.

"Very much the way astronomers find black holes," said Dumbledore. "Only we use a certain 'wavelength' of magic, if you will, or absence of magic."

Severus cleared his throat. "So am I to understand that these generators cannot be precisely located by magic?"

"That's it precisely, Severus," said Flamel. "The designers of these generators were very clever. Only someone with no magical ability can precisely locate or manipulate them."

"That explains how several of them ended up in Muggle museums," commented Scully.

"Really?" Percy's surprised look faded to tone of understanding when he caught Mulder's eye.

"We know of at least two to date," said Mulder. "A small blue hippopotamus from the Smithsonian in New York City and two small statues of cats from the British Museum. All of the statues seem to have ceremonial origins, which would guarantee them gentle handling as long as the civilization lasted. And they all must have some sort of preserving magic on them, seeing as all were in nearly pristine condition after thousands of years."

"If durability is the common denominator," commented Cho, "I should imagine at least an equal number are now in private collections."

"It's a pretty puzzle, to be sure." Flamel frowned, gesturing at the globe. "As you can see," he continued, as a number of the dots migrated and disappeared, "the conspirators have already managed to disable a number of the shield generators, particularly here." The globe rotated and Scully felt her heart sink. The entire continent of Antarctica was completely devoid of shield generators.

Mulder's whisper came from somewhere on Scully's left. "Makes the hole in the ozone layer look like small potatoes, doesn't it?"

"Well, the generators would be easier to locate in Antarctica," said Cho. "There's nowhere to hide a manmade artifact."

Dumbledore nodded. "And as you can see, the southwestern United States is vulnerable, as well."

"The government went over the Southwest with a fine-toothed comb after the crash at Roswell," added Mulder. "Anything unusual they turned up is probably in the hands of the consortium or their extraterrestrial co-conspirators."

"Excuse me, Mr. Flamel?" Percy's hand was tentatively raised.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"I don't quite understand why Wizards and Muggles are trying to destroy the shield. Surely it would behoove us all to strengthen it."

Flamel exchanged a look with Dumbledore, who nodded. Flamel looked at Percy, Cho, and Severus in turn. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that this conversation is taking place in the utmost of confidence. If you should decide that you are not interested in participating in our plan, we must remove your memory of this discussion."

Percy and Cho nodded seriously. Severus refrained from sneering.

"Very well then. Albus, if you please?"

"Thank you, Nicholas. To answer your question, Mr. Weasley, the reason that a consortium of Wizards and Muggles would destroy our planet's protective shield was one that perplexed us both. However, we have learned from Mr. Mulder's unique expertise that the consortium has gained extraterrestrial technology in exchange for destroying the shield, and not just from studying the workings of the shield generators."

"Absurd!" exclaimed Snape. "Even Muggles aren't dense enough to miss the fact that they would be enslaved or destroyed along with the rest of the human race when the invasion came."

"It's not that simple," Mulder cut in. "You see, the hostile extraterrestrials planted a weapon in the earth's crust millions of years ago- long before the shield was erected. It's so potent that humans can't even touch it. The consortium already know this. They figure that the invasion is inevitable and are trying to buy themselves enough time to create a defense against this weapon- a vaccine."

Cho's eyes were wide. "The weapon is a disease?"

Scully nodded. "Specifically, it's parasite. The enemy can control a person who's been in infected with it, but it will eventually kill the body."

Percy shook his head. "Impossible. Surely it would have been found."

"More troubling is that it _has_ been found. We know of at least two incidents in Alaska and Russia," said Mulder, "and I'm sure there are many deposits just waiting to be discovered."

Scully had a thought, and spoke without thinking. "Is it possible that deposits exist near shield barriers? Perhaps the Alephi erected the barriers to provide protection against it, as well as external threats."

Mulder's eyes shone at her with an intensity that surprised her. "I'm sure of it, Scully."

Dumbledore and Nicholas seemed equally taken aback. Nicholas recovered more quickly. "Of course!"

Percy cut in. "But if the containment is magical in origin, is the weapon also?"

Cho nodded. "I can't imagine anything more terrible than a magical contagion- one that has the virulence of a Muggle disease but the resistance of a magical substance."

Dumbledore's voice was grave. "We would be powerless to stop it."

Severus, who had been uncharacteristically silent, spoke. "This weapon- is it a hydrophobic black liquid about the consistency of Mercury?"

Mulder choked on his tea.

"Where did you see it?" Scully asked sharply.

"I worked with it every day for three weeks. Your 'consortium' now has a potion to counter its effects."

A general uproar followed this statement. The lights flashed on, the globe vanished, and they all fell heavily to the floor.

"Ow!" Mulder had banged his elbow on a desk.

"Nicholas!" complained Cho, attempting to charm the spilled tea from her shirt.

But Nicholas was too shaken to hear her. He, Dumbledore and Mulder immediately began interrogating Severus.

"Why didn't you include this in any of your reports?"

"You mean to say a cure exists?"

"What did you use for the active ingredient? Dragon's blood?"

"I didn't include it in my report, Albus, because I thought I was making a vaccine for a particularly virulent hemorrhagic fever. Yes, Mr. Mulder, that's what I just said. And yes, Nicholas, dragon's blood was used. Now if you would all kindly step back a few feet-"

Albus looked furious. "Surely the Institute's asking you to find a cure for a Muggle disease should have raised your suspicions-"

"Nonsense, Albus," protested Severus, with equal force. "The rural African magical community has long been susceptible to particularly virulent straisn-"

"What diagnostic methods did you use?"

Severus glared at Mulder. "I only worked _in vitro_, there was no need for diagnostics."

Mulder's voice betrayed equal irritation. "But how long will it take to mass-produce?"

Flamel's sounded thoughtful. "We'd need to start drawing blood immediately. Who has access to dragons nowadays?"

Albus turned his piercing glare to Percy. "Percy, does your family still have friends in Romania?"

Scully had somehow managed to land in a chair near Percy, who stammered something to the affirmative. She listened to the frenzied chattering for a moment longer before letting fly with an ear-piercing whistle. The conversation ceased abruptly.

"Albus, Nicholas, I'm sure you didn't call us all together to discuss mass production," she said in a stern voice. "Mulder, while I agree that inoculating the world is important, it's vital that we focus on protecting what's left of our defense. You must realize, if I'm correct about the correlation between the black oil deposits and shield generators, then for every shield generator that has been moved or destroyed, there is an unprotected deposit of lethal substance lurking below the ground."

Nicholas was taken aback, and Albus looked as though he were going to argue, until he deflated suddenly. "I believe you're right, Dr. Scully," he said.

"Besides," said Severus, brushing nonexistent lint from his robe, "it's not as if my only samples of the vaccine went up in smoke with the Brisbin."

Albus looked piercingly over his spectacles at Severus. "I trust you will be properly provisioned for tomorrow's excursion."

"Nothing simpler."

Nicholas shoved his glasses further up his nose. "Well, that settles that. I have just one more thing to show you all before we retire for the evening. Miss Chang, brace yourself. Albus, if you please?"

The lights went out again, and they found themselves floating in midair. Scully was beginning to feel a bit airsick. The globe appeared again, then grew unspeakably large, zooming in on a single red dot in central Scotland.

Cho gasped in recognition.

Percy even uttered a soft "Oh, my!"

"As you can see," said Albus, "we have the perfect opportunity to test both Dr. Scully's theory about the proximity of the enemy's weapon and my and Nicholas's charm for protecting the shield generators. We believe that a shield generator exists in the forest at the edge of Hogwarts's grounds."

She could practically hear Mulder's heart rate increase. Hers wasn't exactly calm, either.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Headmaster," Percy's voice trembled, but did not break, "but Mr. Mulder's description led me to believe that the shield generators were ancient ceremonial or sacred objects."

"That is correct, Mr. Weasley."

"But what manner of sacred artifacts exist in the Forbidden Forest?"

"That's what we're hoping to find out tomorrow, when all of us will go to the Forbidden Forest, locate the shield generator, and participate in Nicholas's charm to protect the shield generators."

"And how, precisely, do you expect to find the shield generator, when it is undetectable by magic?"

"It's quite simple, Severus. Mr. Mulder will lead us."

3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E

Once Albus had given them directions to the rendezvous point in the forest and charmed a less ridiculous porkey for them, he sunk into silence, watching gray smoke pour from one of the small instruments on his desk.

Flamel silently placed a cup of tea near Albus's elbow and smiled. "I think we'll leave Albus to his ruminations." He held the office door open, and the other stepped into the circular room once more. When the door closed behind them, the room began spinning, blurring the candlelight into a brilliant blue line. The rotation stopped as quickly as it had begun.

Nicholas hummed pleasantly and ushered them through one of the other doors into a long hallway.

"Thank you Nicholas," said Percy. "Will we be having the honour of meeting your wife tomorrow?"

"Perenelle? Heavens, no. She has more important things to do."

"More important than saving the world?" The impertinence of Cho's query was tempered by her obvious curiosity.

"My dear Miss Chang, she _is_ saving the world, or at least, the world as we know it. Perenelle works for the same department that Albus and I do, but her work is top secret, even to us. What I can tell you is that when we were married, she was sixteen years my junior. She has since narrowed the gap to six years and seven months."

Mulder whistled. Scully and Severus shared a nod.

"That reminds me," said Percy. "I need to speak with Albus for a moment. I'll floo to the Headmistress's office and meet up with you tomorrow for breakfast." He set off in the direction of the circular room.

"Floo?" asked Mulder, once Nicholas waved them through the golden gate of the lift at the end of the hall.

"Magical powder that allows you to travel from fire to fire," explained Cho. "It's quite convenient, but a bit disorienting."

"Einstein would have a field day here," commented Mulder.

"That's something I've always wondered about," said Cho, as a pleasant voice announced their arrival in the Atrium. "What would he have come up with if he'd been a Wizard?"

"Hair products, most likely," commented Severus dryly. "Not everyone flourishes with a surfeit of choices."

They all stepped out, Nicholas leading the way across a huge and magnificent room to a line of golden fireplaces, which crackled merrily.

Flamel dipped his hand in a golden urn on one of the mantelpieces, pulling out a handful of sparkling powder. He threw it into the fireplace, whose flames flared emerald.

"Well, fellow adventurers, this is where I say good evening. Mr. Mulder, Dr. Scully, I took the liberty of checking you out of your hotel and moving your things to rooms at Hogwarts. Just say the name "Figgy" when you arrive, and a house elf, a dear friend of mine, will appear to help you to your rooms. Rest well, and I'll see you at eight o'clock tomorrow!"

He waved jauntily, stepped into the green flames, and disappeared with a loud snuffing sound.

Cho glanced at the others. "I'm beat. Shall we be off, as well?"

Severus took the newly portkeyed teacup out of his pocket and held it out to them. "Very well."

As soon as their fingers touched the rim of the cup, the world jerked as it had before, and the atrium swirled into blackness. Abruptly, Scully found herself standing in a different part of the castle than she had been in before.

The room was even larger than the atrium they had just left, and the ceiling glittered with crystalline light fixtures. Shiny wooden floors clicked smartly under her heels and she surveyed the large doors on either end. .

Severus took no time in pronouncing "Figgy" in an impressive voice.

There was a soft pop from behind them, and Scully spun around to see the oddest creature she had yet beheld.

It stood no higher than her hip and had an impressive span of ears and protuberant brown eyes. Its face was heavily wrinkled, and a few strands of white hair wisped from the edges of its bald pate. It wore a handsome livery with a four-colored crest and bowed deeply.

"Greetings, friends of Nicholas Flamel," it said in a quavering baritone. "I am Figgy."

"Hello Figgy," said Cho. "I'm Cho Chang, and this is Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Percy Weasley, and Severus Snape."

Figgy nodded serenely at their names until Cho reached Severus. The creature started, then peered at Snape suspiciously.

Snape glared back. "Aren't you supposed to take us to our rooms?"

"I will," said Figgy, "but know that I take no pleasure in serving _you_." After uttering this proclamation, Figgy stamped viciously on his ankle with the heel of his other shoe. He emitted a grunt of pain and his huge eyes watered, but he turned to Severus.

"Will Mr. Snape require his former chambers?" Figgy said the words blandly enough, but Scully thought saw a flicker of irritation in Severus's eyes at being called "Mr."

"That will not be necessary, Figgy. I shall take the room Nicholas asked you to prepare for me." Scully noted a slight emphasis on Flamel's name. Figgy twitched, but kept his face neutral.

"However," Severus continued, "I will require the fires lit in the subdungeon to be lit in half an hour."

"As you please, sir." He turned his back on Severus and spoke more pleasantly to the others. "You will all follow me please?"

"Excuse me, Figgy," said Cho, "Would you please tell me what room this is?"

"This is the formal ballroom, Miss Chang," responded Figgy.

"I never knew anything about a formal ballroom at Hogwarts," commented Cho.

"Only special friends of Hogwarts are allowed," said Figgy. "It's generally used for celebrations marking the end of O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations."

Cho looked mildly surprised. "But I was top of my year for both exams, and I never received an invitation."

"Of course not," snapped Severus. "The celebrations were for those who underwent the most challenging trials, namely the staff and examiners."

"This way, please." Figgy waved a small brown hand, and the grand doors of the ballroom swung open to reveal a hall lined with doors and golden statues.

They passed notable after notable, finally stopping in front of a statue of a witch named Elfrida Clagg, around whom flitted a flock of small golden balls.

"This will be Miss Chang's room," announced Figgy, as the door swung open. "It was the favorite of Ogden Tiberius's when he used to give the History of Magic N.E.W.T. You notice the goblin-wrought fixtures and the twelfth century tapestries. Please let me know if there is anything I can provide."

"Thank you, Figgy," said Cho with an enormous yawn. "I think I'll be all right for the evening. See you all in the morning!"

Figgy continued leading them down the hallway and stopped at a statue of a gaunt-looking wizard whose plaque claimed that he had invented a self-stirring cauldron.

"Mr. Snape will be here this evening," said Figgy shortly. He did not open the door.

Severus entered his room without a word. He shut the door with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary.

"Wonder what he did to Figgy," Mulder whispered.

"I couldn't begin to guess. And I'm not sure who I'd like to ask less, Severus or Figgy."

Figgy studiously ignored their whispers and led them down the hall- it appeared to have no end- finally stopping by a statue of a small boy holding a cauldron proudly aloft.

"Mr. Mulder will be in this suite. This room is favored by foreign dignitaries who travel with their families. You will find a fully-stocked bar by the window. The doors have the most powerful silencing charms of any place in the castle. If you require any food or other beverages, simply say my name and I will bring you anything that it is in my power to bring."

Figgy held the door open for Mulder and turned to face Scully.

"Dr. Scully will be in the tutor room. It was designed to accommodate children traveling to Hogwarts with their families. It adjoins Mr. Mulder's room, though the connecting door is currently locked. Please call my name if you wish me to open it for you. I trust you will have a pleasant stay." With that, Figgy bowed, and disappeared with a pop.

Scully felt slightly as if she'd been snubbed, but shrugged it off. She grasped the heavy golden handle of the door, and was dismayed to find that the door was locked. A moment after she had decided to crash with Mulder for the evening, glowing red letters appeared over the knob that read _alohomora_.

Remembering the wand motion diagram in her book, she pulled her wand from her robe, flicked it at the door, and pronounced the spell.

The door swung open on silent hinges, but the room was completely dark. Unsurprisngly, the word _lumos_ floated livid in the air before her. She cast the spell, and the room was filled with a blaze of light.

An enormous chandelier hung overhead, lit by a thousand tiny points of light. The floor was covered with plush carpet, and the room was sparsely but elegantly appointed. Scully kicked off her shoes and walked to the window. The sun had already set, but there was still a soft glow at the horizon. She could just make out the outline of the forest in the darkness. As she squinted to see the edge of the lake, the tip of her nose brushed against the window.

Immediately, the red letters appeared, spelling out _scourgify_. Surprised, Scully jumped back, wand drawn. She shook her head, and cast the spell at the tiny smudge, which promptly disappeared.

Turning from the window, she was delighted to find that her luggage and books had been arranged and the clothes had all been cleaned, pressed, and hung in the closet. The bed was a glorious affair of goosedown-stuffed duvet and sheets so smooth that the palms of her hands tingled.

But the bed would wait. Scully needed a bath.

She filled the huge tub instantly by pronouncing the words that the red letters prompted. All manner of oils, soaps, bubbles, lotions, and tonics were available from engraved taps that circled the bathing area. She placed her wand on the small shelf above the tub and sank gratefully into the steaming water.

The red letters promptly ordered her to cast _lavaro, _but she ignored them, opting instead to try a few of the taps. Scully turned one, which released delightfully tingly bubbles that she massaged into her scalp, willing away the last of the soot and grime and sinking into semi-consciousness.

A bell rung softly somewhere in the main room, and Scully groaned. She expected the red letters to tell her what to do, but they resolutely held in the washing spell. Not knowing what else to do, she cast the spell, which caused a soapy washcloth to appear and start washing her back.

She yelped and tried to pull it off, but it diligently scrubbed on. Ducking into the water did not deter it. She finally managed to seize the soapy rag in one hand, her wand in the other, and cast the spell that appeared in response to the repeated ringing of the bell.

Mulder's face appeared suddenly in a large tile on the wall. She abruptly immersed herself in the water up to the neck. The enchanted washcloth took the opportunity to slip out of her grip and began scrubbing her face and behind her ears. She wrestled it away from her face, and glared at her partner, who appeared much too amused for her liking.

"What is it, Mulder?"

"I wanted to talk, but if you're indisposed…"

The red letters formed the word a_lohomora_ again.

"Oh no, you don't," said Scully under her breath. "Hang on a sec, Mulder," she called. She knotted the offending washcloth around one of the taps, where it wriggled pathetically, and realized that she didn't know how to turn off the tile. Mulder was still watching her with an innocent look on her face. Damn. There were no towels close to the tub. Fortunately, there was a soft cotton robe on the door, which she _accio_ed and wriggled into, her eye on Mulder at all times.

Belatedly, the words _finite incantem_ appeared in front of Mulder's face. She glared at the letters and resolved never to forget _that _particular enchantment. Unfortunately, the spell had the unintended effect of undoing the lighting spell she had cast earlier.

She managed to slip on the wet tile before the red letters reminded her of _lumos_, another spell she was resolved not to forget. She collected herself and cast _alohomora_ on the door. It swung open to admit her partner.

He whistled as he stepped into her room. "Nice room. Shame about the bathroom, though." He flopped down on her bed and stuffed a pillow under his chin.

"Make yourself at home, Mulder," she said with a wry smile. She pulled a pair of comfortable jeans and a cotton shirt from the wardrobe. "I'll be right back."

"But there's no television! What am I supposed to do, read?"

She didn't dignify this with a response- she merely closed the door and set to work drying her hair. Several sets of red words appeared earnestly in front of her, presumably to help, but Scully wasn't interested. In fact, she was grumbling under her breath, trying to figure out a way to dismantle the red text.

She even poked at the letters with her wand, but to no effect.

"It won't work," said a mournful voice.

Scully jumped. "Who's there?"

"It's me," said the voice. "You're looking straight at me."

Scully's brow furrowed. All that was in front of her was the mirror. She looked sternly at her reflection.

"Did you say something?"

"I did, but I honestly don't know why I bother," droned the mirror- definitely the mirror. "Everyone is always too busy with the red letters. Nobody ever listens to me anyway."

"Well, do you have anything useful to say?" She pulled on her clothes quickly.

"I doubt it," said the mirror. "My problem was that I started out as an automatic abacus, but they transfigured me into a mirror. All my computational ability wasted on people wanting to know if a haircut makes their faces look round. It's so depressing, really."

"I'm sorry you aren't enjoying being a mirror. Have you talked to the Headmistress about a career change?"

"It's no use. I used to be in one of the student bathrooms, but she moved me in here specially. She figured I would put the visiting children to sleep I suppose."

"Why were you moved away from the students?"

"Nobody liked me. I get everyone down. I'm not depressing you, am I?"

Scully hid a smile. "Not at all. But I do need to get back to my partner."

"I knew I'd depress you," said the mirror dolefully. "I always do."

Scully regarded the mirror shrewdly. "Out of curiosity, you don't know a way to turn off the red words in this room, do you?"

"I've been a mirror for more than fifty years," droned the mirror, "and everyone gets depressed and leaves without – what was that?"

"I said, 'do you know how to turn off the red words?'" In the silence that followed, Scully had an odd sensation that the mirror had perked up.

"I know, for all the good that it's done me." The mirror sounded slightly less despondent.

"Will you tell me?"

"I haven't anything better to do." The mirror was clearly enjoying itself, but Scully was getting a bit impatient. The red letters appeared suddenly in front of the mirror and formed the word _silencio_.

Scully ignored them. "How, exactly, do I disable the words?"

"You snap your fingers."

"That's it?"

"There is a proper enchantment, but I don't remember it and the letters will never tell you what it is. Be glad there's an easier way. You can snap them on and snap them off."

She snapped experimentally at _silencio_, and it vanished. She snapped again, and the word reappeared. It faded a moment later.

"Thank you so much for your help," she said to the mirror. "If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

"Nothing can help me," sighed the mirror. "But perhaps if I do some sums it will make me feel better."

Suddenly inspired, Scully gave the mirror a penetrating look. "Do you know what a Fermat prime number is?"

She felt a sense of tentative curiosity emanating from the mirror. "No, but I once recited the first million prime numbers when I was hung in the boy's bathroom in the Arithmancy corridor."

"This upps the stakes a bit. A Fermat prime is a Fermat number that is prime. Fermat numbers are generated by the equation F sub n equals two to the two to the nth power, plus one. It's generally thought that there are not an infinite number of Fermat primes, but we've only been able to come up with five with current computational methods."

The mirror mulled this over. "And you think I can come up with more?"

"No idea," said Scully honestly. "But if you can, I guarantee it will be of interest in the Muggle world, if not the Magical one. Perhaps then you'll be restored to a form that pleases you more."

"I'll have to think about this one," said the mirror, more to itself than to Scully.

"Well, if you come up with anything, so let me know" she said, slipping out of the bathroom.

She found Mulder sprawled on the bed reading _Index Infusia_. Red letters appeared over the table, prompting her to conjure up drinks. She scowled in their direction and shook her head. They lingered for long enough to be insolent, but faded before she had the opportunity to snap them into oblivion.

She joined him on the bed, resting her neck and shoulders on the air-soft pillow and sighed. "I wish my room had slightly less personality."

Mulder closed the book and grinned at her. "You seemed to be getting on with the mirror. Sounded like a most reflective personality."

"Mulder, if you make one more pun, I'm going to ask Figgy to bring Minerva in here."

"I might have to make some Figgy pudding if he does."

She snorted and rolled over on to her stomach. "So, would it do me any good to ask you what you thought of today's meeting, or is your brain as tired as mine?"

"I'll say it was a nice change from bureau. It was refreshing to have so many people on the level."

Scully nodded. "It feels good. Indescribably good. Like we're not alone anymore."

"Like we've been vindicated. I guess this means you have to admit that I'm not crazy."

She smiled. "Perish the thought."

"And can you imagine what your magic will do for our work, Scully? Being able to cast a charm to immobilize a monster or walk through fire?"

Scully shook her head. "I still don't feel like I know enough for it to really be useful in the field. And I don't think we'll be here long enough for me to learn much."

The smile on Mulder's face faded a little. "Skinner. I forgot to call Skinner."

"What would you have told him if you had remembered before now? That the victims were bound and dissolved by giant talking spiders?"

"I would have said the murders are nearly wrapped up."

Scully batted him playfully on the shoulder. "What did I warn you about puns?"

"That you'd give me a foot massage if I made lots of them?"

"Just for that, I declare that it's your responsibility to contact Skinner from now on. You'll get no help from me!"

Both their heads snapped up at the soft ping from across the room. A small dish of powder had appeared on the mantelpiece. Instead of words, the red script formed a series of arrows, indicating that they throw the powder into the fire.

Scully raised an eyebrow. "I don't think Skinner is ready to have us pop out of his fireplace."

"Is there even a fireplace in the building? We could aim for the furnace."

"And risk setting off the fire alarms again? No thanks." Scully snapped her fingers and the diagram disappeared. She crossed to her neatly piled belongings on a side table and located her cell phone. The batteries were still in the bottom of her jacket pocket from when she had removed them in Severus's lab. Once she had reinserted them, the phone began to vibrate and flash madly as it had then.

She removed the batteries and shrugged. "So much for wireless technology. Figgy?"

The ensuing pop made her jump. This would definitely take getting used to.

"At your service, Dr. Scully."

"Figgy, is there a telephone anywhere in the school?"

"I'm afraid not, though the fireplace in your room has full connectivity to the floo network."

Scully shook her head. "I don't think that will work."

"How about a television?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mulder. There are no electrical appliances anywhere at Hogwarts."

"I knew there was a dark side to all this magic."

"If you wish, I can ask the Headmistress to recommend a suitable form of communication, assuming it is someone in the Muggle community you wish to contact."

"That's very kind of you. Thank you Figgy."

He disappeared with a pop and reappeared a moment later.

"The Headmistress would like to speak with you both, if you are not otherwise engaged."

Mulder shrugged. "I'm game."

"We'd be happy to meet her, Figgy. Let me put on some shoes."

She summoned them from their place by the wardrobe, just because she could.

"Please follow me."

Figgy led them to the very end of the golden statue hallway, up two flights of stairs (three trick steps total), across what appeared to be a gaping chasm, down three flights, by several large galleries, and finally, up a dizzyingly tall spiral staircase, where they came face to face with a very ugly gargoyle.

"Loch Lomond," announced Figgy, and the gargoyle moved aside to permit them entry.

The room was large and beautiful in the light of a roaring fire. Scully was surprised to see a large plate of sandwiches perched on an ottoman in front of the fire. Then the person sitting by the fire stood, and Scully had to suppress a gasp.

Before her stood a witch. A real witch. She was dressed in a green velvet robe and wore a jaunty pointed hat festooned with pheasant feathers. She was tall to begin with, but in her hat she towered over them all. Her face and hands were lined with age, and she leaned slightly on an ebony walking stick, but she radiated power in the same way that Albus did. She even had the same measuring gaze over the rims of square spectacles.

Not knowing what else to do, Scully pulled out her badge. "Headmistress? I'm Special Agent Scully and this is Special Agent Mulder. F.B.I."

The witch narrowed her eyes perceptibly at Mulder.

"I believe we've met."

Mulder smiled ingratiatingly. "I'm sure I'd remember meeting such a charming lady as yourself."

She gave him a thin-lipped smile. "I'm sure you do remember me. Perhaps you know me only by my Christian name, or perhaps by my distaste for the lowest form of humor."

Scully stared at the woman, trying to remember where they'd met. She tried to imagine meeting anyone with such presence, when suddenly in her mind's eye a small furry face was superimposed over the Headmistress's regal one.

"Minerva."

The Headmistress had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. "Yes, take ten points, Miss Scully. Please, sit down."

She absently summoned two more chairs and ushered Mulder and Scully into them. Tea and blood sausages joined the plate of sandwiches on the ottoman.

"First things first," said the Headmistress. "I must apologize for eavesdropping on your conversation in the infirmary this morning. It was childish behavior, and I am thoroughly ashamed of myself. However, I can't say I'm sorry for what I learned."

Scully was suddenly mortified. They'd been talking about Albus.

The Headmistress seemed to have noticed the look on her face and held out a small box.

"Have a sherbet lemon, Dr. Scully. And don't worry. Albus knew I'd find him eventually, and it's just as well that I did today. Your group is going to need all the help you can get, if you'll excuse me for saying so."

Mulder was staring at Minerva in something like awe. "How did you do it, Headmistress?"

"I'm an animagus, Mr. Mulder. I can turn into a cat. But let's stick to the topic at hand, please. Since I will be accompanying your group into the Forbidden Forest tomorrow, I would like to know a bit more about the people leading us on this wild jarvey chase."

Mulder bit into one of the sausages. "What would you like to know?"

"Well, your education for starters. Practical skills, that sort of thing."

Mulder grinned. "I have Ph.D. in psychology, and I used to profile serial killers. I currently investigate paranormal phenomena."

Minerva looked a bit disappointed. "Any practical skills, Mr. Mulder?"

Mulder, who seemed to be getting used to this sort of reaction in the magical world grinned. "I have a photographic memory and I have fairly extensive training in firearms, at least the Muggle kind." Mulder started eating another sausage

"Well, I suppose it's better than nothing." Minerva's gaze turned to Scully.

Scully shrugged. "I'm a pathologist by education, a paranormal investigator by trade, and I found out that I had magical powers three days ago."

Minerva regarded Scully over her spectacles. "What magic have you been able to do?"

"A few basic spells."

"She blew up a vase of flowers with Severus's wand," commented Mulder.

"How in blazes did you get Severus's wand?"

"Self-defense classes."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. Scully decided to be more explicit.

"I kicked the wand out of his hand. He tried to summon it, but I managed to freeze it in midair."

"You interrupted his summoning without a wand?"

"Yes, but I couldn't hold it. When he held the wand to my neck, I kicked him in the groin, grabbed his wand, and ran."

Minerva coughed, quite possibly covering a snicker, then handed Scully a nearly empty teacup.

"Mr. Weasley mentioned that you've had visions. Kindly interpret these tea leaves for me."

Bewildered, Scully stared at bottom of the cup, willing something to happen. When nothing did, she gently rotated the cup, and allowed her eyes to relax. She breathed deeply and swirled the leaves gently in the bottom of the cup.

When she heard the Headmistress release an impatient breath, she suspected that she was being had.

"I can't see anything other than a mess of tea leaves."

"Surely you must see something. A large dog, perhaps? A cross?"

Scully looked the Headmistress squarely in the eye. "The visions I had before just _happened_. I don't think any amount of staring at a teacup will induce them. I see a clump of black specks. Unless we're going to be attacked by a swarm of fleas, this cup doesn't hold the future any more than this footstool does."

Minerva took the cup back from Scully and refilled it with an unreadable look on her face. She stared at the steam rising from the cup for a moment, then reclined in her chair and stretched her stocking toes toward the fire, gazing at them both in turn.

"I feel quite strongly that neither of you will be a detriment to tomorrow's mission," she said at last. "And if you don't mind rehashing some of your meeting this afternoon, I'd really like to know more about the black oil Mr. Weasley mentioned. Severus has already locked himself down in the old potions classroom and only communicates in grunts."

Scully eyed the Headmistress. "Figgy didn't seem to pleased to see him."

"Naturally. Figgy, like most of the Magical Community believes Albus Dumbledore is dead."

"What has that to do with Severus?"

"Severus was the one who blasted him off the astronomy tower with a killing curse. We were all quite devastated. In retrospect, they must have been planning it for quite some time."

"Why did they do it?"

"That's something you'll have to ask Albus one of these days, Mr. Mulder. Now, it's nearly past my bedtime. Black oil, if you please, in five hundred words or less."

"Delighted, Headmistress. Setting: Alaska about ten thousand years ago…"

3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E3E

Holy Cannoli! I could finish this story before the year is out! Once it jives with HBP, I think I may call it "done." Apologies for a somewhat expositional chapter- the next will have much more action, and will bring us much closer to the end.

Huge thanks to my anonymous beta-reader, without whom I would be quite devastated. Also, long-overdue thanks to those of you who reviewed during my various hiatuses (hiatusi?). I am so grateful to you all for taking the time to read this story and I am floored by how many of you have left me words of encouragement.


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